Niceties forgotten, Antonin paused momentarily when she mentioned his name, but recovered easily and extended a hand to take her's into his own, in a firm but not painful grasp. Mostly it was an excuse to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin within his own palm. He may have been a Healer, but his hands were rough, calloused from a lifetime of labor, not soft like some of the boys who worked alongside him. He was a man through and through.
"Smith," he repeated, storing the name and her face away within his memory. "Trauma, it is.. interesting. There is not often opportunity to learn much about the patients we receive." Antonin lingered longer than was probably necessary with her hand in his own, but he loosed her grip eventually and nodded faintly in acknowledgment. "I am uncertain if it is proper to suggest I would see you in the hospital. With fortune.. perhaps you will be well and not there for your own illness."