[this bleeding purple thing better not be a (mickey mouse voice) secret tool to help us later]

...Gods, no wonder you're running a fever. You look like you've been chewed on — are they all like this?

[He tosses the coat unceremoniously across the room, then digs into the medical kit after antiseptic and something to clean the gashes with. His legs are protesting more than a little from all the strain he's put on them in the past few bells, but that's a tomorrow problem.]

This will sting like all seven hells, I'm sorry. Hold onto me if you need to.