Stavanger Bay The seas may be rough, but I am the Captain!

I wouldn't refuse anyone, she promised, much as he expected of her. She moved past him and began to sort through the mess he'd made after that, so he withdrew from the cache and watched her carefully. A part of him knew the danger of trusting his health to a total stranger (even if they were a healer); if she really wanted to, she could poison him and rid the pack of his fresh claim, his power. He would have to be careful of whatever she chose to administer.

When she withdrew herself, turned to him and gave an introduction, he was watching the plants that she carried with her rather than listening. It didn't affect him one way or another if he knew the names of the people here — they weren't his people, not really. Just another ragtag group like Rusalka (but boy, was he wrong about that). And what does that do? He made sure to ask, motioning with a nod of his snout at the yellow flower with an air of skepticism.

If you're hoping to dose me or poison me, forget it, he cautioned rather openly. Before I take anything, you have to take it. If you're fine after, then I'll let you treat me. He had no idea of her own illness so to speak, and honestly wouldn't have allowed himself to care even if he had known of her pregnancy. He needed to make sure that whatever that was, it would help him, not hurt him.