Logan wandered off to find and moisten a rag for her hands, and gathered some ointment while he was at it. He never needed those things, but he kept them on hand anyway just in case. Not everyone was as adaptable as he was.
He returned, sitting down next to her on the couch, "Yep," he replied to her question, taking one of her hands gently. He pulled out the thorns, taking as much care as he could with the extraction. His blue eyes scanned the skin for any more blemishes and finding it clean he washed the tiny punctures, then doctored them with ointment.
He repeated the same action on the next palm, and set the materials aside when the task was complete.
"Do you ride?" He inquired of her, glancing up at her. He had noticed a pink motorcycle when he had left Honour's cottage, and had a feeling he knew who it belonged to.