The Auror had been patched up as well as he could be, though Smethmyck did not give much for his chances as he spoke to a Medi-witch about his condition. He wanted the man moved to a larger room, as they were short of rooms in times like these, and a man who would never wake up again, did not know the difference.
Just then a woman stepped in, looking shocked and gasping a name. He looked down into his papers, yes that was the wizards name, or a part of it.
Before he could react the Medi-witch was asking if she was a relative, trying to get her to leave long enough to find out, but Smethmyck just stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and sent her off. The man was going to die, visitors would neither help nor strain him. He'd seen injuries like this, a blasting curse cast up close, it was a small miracle he'd survived the transport to the shack, or even the treatment. His insides were simply too hurt, the strain too large.
'Are you, perhaps family, Miss?' he asked after a quick glance at her ring finger. 'Or a friend? Girlfriend?' He smiled at her, trying to be calming.