After a moment, I shake my head and turn to his bandages.
Sometimes it's impossible to tell if it's my humor that's broken, or his. "Stay still."
He sighs and does as commanded.
When the last of the bandages peels away from the skin, the extent of the wounds are laid bare once more. The arrow wound is almost completely healed, fortunately.
The burn is a different matter entirely.
The fact that he can joke around - or attempt to, at any rate - and be so animated when his back must be in such pain is almost shocking, given his choice of career.
Merchants weren't generally known for their high pain tolerance, after all.
I frown down at the burn as I inspect it more closely.
The blackened skin has begun to shrink, revealing raw and bleeding patches that must sting when agitated, but which, due to the wound's exposure, is necessary for proper healing.
