Corrie rolled her eyes and smiled ruefully, in lieu of another of the sighs that kept escaping. Smiling didn't hurt, at least. "Okay," she said. "I'll go. That's all you had to say, you know." If he'd refused to let her help with the boggart, she would have immediately announced her intention to hunt it alone... and then she would have gone, although it would have been pretty stupid of her. Maybe she would have been equally stupid about this if she'd had any idea what fixing Min entailed, other than spells of some kind. But she didn't, so she couldn't.
So that pretty much settled it. In theory, she could still wait around to make sure Lorcan wouldn't try to deal with the situation with his half-existent wand. But that option suddenly seemed more awkward than it had when she first thought of it. And he said he was tired, and she was tired, and waiting out the night would be another really stupid thing to do when she had a broken rib, so why even think about it? Just trust him not to do anything stupid like she would have.
She turned away from him and spoke quietly to the air. "Min, could you get me a little box? Nothing fancy, just-" she traced an invisible square, one that would be easy to hold in one hand. "Cardboard or paper." When the box appeared, Corrie swept the little splinters into it, careful not to miss one. She shut the box and eased herself up and out of the chair, one arm around her middle, head down and hair sliding forward to hide her face. Then she grabbed it, and her wand, and slowly made her way to the table by the window, where she'd left her purse. Pause. "And my keys, please?" They appeared on the table, and Corrie pocketed them again, thanking Min quietly.
Another pause, and she turned to look at Lorcan in his pile of pillows. "Take care of yourself," she said softly. "Don't go trying to fix her tomorrow unless your arm really is back."