Pour away.

[ It stings- of course it stings. That is because it works and like most flashes of pain he was long trained out of reacting to- Zevran doesn't flinch. Doesn't tense up. Doesn't twist away. He exhales a long, slow breath as though it was a particularly difficult knot Bruce was massaging away rather than what it truly is.

Crow training at it's finest. ]

Mm. I suppose the Elfroot for that particular poultice wasn't the freshest. 'By Orlesian' they said. 'It heals faster' they said. This is what I get for listening to farm hands.

[ Speaking of hands- Bruce's was large and warm and- normally a hand so close to an injury- even that of a healer, is cause for tension. Fear. But the touch is a slow, soothing warmth against what would be a tense and uncomfortable situation. Combined with Bruce's relative unassuming nature and the distinct lack of any large blades, it's enough for Zevran's mouth to run.

In Antivan, of course. ]

Spostare la mano un po 'a sinistra e un po' più basso e ti spingono oltre il mio braccio.