"Oh come on, it's not that bad," Tanismore said, slapping Handy on the shoulder. It was the same one that ached and had been broken just an hour before, healed only by the delightful balm that salamander salve proved to be. Tanismore didn't realise his mistake until Handy, resting his head in his arms, looked up and gave him a glare that could cut glass. Tanismore winced as he withdrew his claw and became very interested in the tankard of foaming beer in front of him.