A Sharp Scratch

(Un)fortunately for Isla, she was all too used to seeing a man turned to ribbons in her time, but never had one strolled into the infirmary and seated himself at a table quite so casually. Rather than pander to him, she merely nodded and rose to her feet again as he confirmed he could walk - as he got up she was able to observe him, at least. They headed to the treatment room and Isla watched the way he breathed and the way he moved, making preliminary assessments on his injuries, their severity and their treatment. (She noted, as well, the metallic twinkle of his arm, but stored her questions away for later). "Take a seat, if you would." She nodded to the bed set up at one side of the room, closing the door behind them and making sure she had the appropriate tools and equipment. She smirked at his comment, shrugging and approaching with a warm cloth soaked in a solution that would probably sting like all hells, but would clean the blood away and make sure everything was sterile. "I wasn't aware that I had a reputation, rumour or no rumour," she remarked. "This will sting, but I doubt it will hurt more than you already are. Can you tell me what happened?" Isla the flesh is weak