Horizon Ridge you're a new song baby

it seems his blunt question is unappreciated; he inclines his head, not quite apologising but certainly deferring to her. perhaps it is a question she has been asked often and is tiring of hearing it, he surmises, or perhaps - ah, perhaps she doesn't know. "quite all right," he says reassuringly, eyes trailing the particular droop of her lip. "i'm no medic, anyhow." 

samothes likes to imagine himself an advisor-of-sorts (that is the introduction he gave thelxiope, anyhow, and his intentions with constantine), though he lacks the trademark messeda compassion. still, there is a difference between one without sympathy and one without empathy, and seeing her distress, the slim male softens his expression slightly. "snowe," he repeats. "as i said, i'm no medic, but perhaps it would help you to know the cause of your..." he casts about for a phrase, settling on, "injury." clearly something had happened to the she-wolf - setting aside her odd mannerisms, her fur was clear burned away in large patches and he didn't need to be a medic to figure some trauma had occured. "do you remember anything?" samothes prompts in a slow voice (referring, of course, to the actual incident - unaware of any actual memory loss on her part).