Jade Fern Grove all that remains of you is a crackle of your energy

to be fair, some social graces did not apply to her. or rather, they did and she chose to ignore it. she could not fault the man, at the core, for not speaking. her own invasion into his personal space could be called rude. ignoring the look of aggression he gave her in favor of checking his wounds over, she had already pulled back to fix him with a deadpan expression. he informs her that he is tired, and she gently clicks her tongue. "blood loss is a reason for that, I should think." perhaps that was the reason? or mayhap it was from travel with the wounds itself? either way.

she pressed on, despite her assumptions. before that, however, the man sat in front of her. she was not going to ask him what happened; the scent told her she had briefly met the one who did such a thing. whether it was this man's fault or the other's, she did not care. it was not what was most pressing. she tilted her head at the other in front of her, allowing a frown upon her emotionless features. "mayhap I can clean it for you" she offered, though not shyly or boldly. a mere acceptance of the fact she could do it.