Healer Gibson, a woman in her thirties, seemed nice enough even though she didn't immediately give Corrie a chance to dig into the food. And she didn't even look suspicious despite Corrie stumbling over her name (she nearly introduced herself as Laurie, that being the name she was used to using while lying about something big). Instead, she got straight to the point, briskly asking a series of questions to establish what shape Corrie was in (pain when breathing; pain while moving; pain in general).
"No dizziness? Headache? Coughing blood?" the healer asked. "Fatigue?"
"No," Corrie said, stifling a huge yawn. Healer Gibson raised her eyebrows, and she added guiltily, "It's been a long day, that's all! I'd be tired anyway."
"Well, it sounds like a pretty standard case," the healer said. "Not too severe. But it's a good thing you came to me, broken ribs are very serious and can't go untreated for long."
Corrie tried not to look at Lorcan. She knew she should have gone for treatment right away, and he'd be clearly angry with her for not saying. He didn't usually hold on to anger, but... "Yeah, I'm lucky I had a friend here," she said, trying to sound cheerful about it.
"Very," Healer Gibson said. "Now, lets get a better look at the damage..." She reached to unbutton Corrie's shirt, raising her eyebrows silently when Corrie moved the blanket up to cover herself, and waited a moment, just looking at her until she reluctantly moved her hands away again. Clenching her wand in her wrapped hand and tapping her left against the wall to tease the Jesseshark, she tried unsuccessfully to ignore the unbuttoning and to pretend her face, neck and ears weren't all turning beet red.
"Ah, there we are," said the healer when the shirt was fully unbuttoned and hanging open. "Right here-" And she gently tapped Corrie, making her cry out briefly in pain and bit her lip. This was why she usually went to her dad with anything that hurt, all non-related healers were sadists! "That's quite a bruise," Healer Gibson added, and that caught Corrie's interest despite herself - she was a connoisseur of bruises. She turned her head, craning her neck to see, and there, just underneath her right breast (thank Merlin she was wearing a sensible bra today!) was an explosion of a bruise, a rich purplish-red blotch about the size of a fist.
"Wow," she said. It wasn't a bludger bruise, but it wasn't anything to sneeze at, either.