By the end of Lada's treatment, you're looking significantly better. She's cleaned the dried blood away with a wet rag, run alcohol over your cuts, and bandaged the gash on the side of your head. Other than that, she's given you a bottle of vodka and an order to recover on sleep.
Lada gives you a light pat on the back, which causes you to flinch at the sudden touch. She apologizes, a sheepish look on her face.
After an awkward pause, she gestures for the exit. "Well, Marshal… you should probably start with recovering sleep."
You rub a hand over your aching head and stand up.
"Thanks for patchin' me up," you say.
Lada waves a dismissive hand. "I'm a surgeon. It's my job. Jus' don't go making a habit out of this."
As you leave…