Ithalin responded to Heinrich's departure with a curt nod at the elf as he observed over his papers, before returning his attentions to the bag. He listened in the silence of fist meeting leather as the woman spoke, before stopping his assault with one final, heavy blow to the sack, leaving it to swing idly on its chain as he turned to look at the smaller woman. He leaned himself down until his face was merely a few inches from her own, his burning gaze peering into the windows to her soul, and the leathers upon his body clinging tight to adjust to their new position. He held himself like that for a few moments before suddenly pulling back to his full height, crossing his arms with a laugh. Such a position gave Hermesia and excellent view from which she could observe the bones in his evidently broken fingers moving back into place. Recomposing himself, he nodded with a grin.<span style="color: #ff0000">"Very well, woman,"</span>he spoke in his guttural common.<span style="color: #ff0000">"Show me what your little salves can do for one who thirsts for life itself."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>