Asklepios trailed off as the Norse goddess disappeared. What was happening that was so important? Not that he thought her sometimes odd ways extended to blowing medical situations out of proportion. Asklepios had never known a healer worth their salt - and she was - who would exaggerate the seriousness of a situation. Least of all to one such as himself, who knew as she did the various parts of the body and the varied maladies that can affect them. Eir's absence was a chance for him to... no, he wasn't going to rummage through her belongings. How rude would that be? Asklepios could never feel easy in her company again if he started rummaging around in things that didn't belong to him. That did not stop him from considering it as he twiddled his thumbs.
What a rude thing it would be.
But then, the answer to her riddle was probably here.
Somewhere.
Maybe.
No.
His mind kept wandering back to Sigyn and Philotes. Something had been fatally mismanaged, both of them in turn offering something and then withdrawing it quickly - while pretending that he was the fool. One threatened him with a knife, the other with a date - both of those threats engaged as best he could manage, they were then withdrawn, and indeed the very existence of them in the first place was denied either as a misunderstanding or through feigned ignorance. It wasn't that he couldn't admit he'd been too hard on one and too addled with the other, but ... it wasn't as though he was the only one who had no idea what brains were or how to use them, was it?
Not even the worst offender.
So instead he considered his situation. The main reason not to give the ambrosia tonic to a Greek deity was psychological. Strain incurred by a deity's mind as wounds disappeared could be difficult to identify and quantify, but apparently for gods a degree of it could occur. Convalescence was as much about the mind as it was about the body. To give a patient time to consider their situation and their wounds, and to make peace with whatever concerns might be haunting them before they rose from their bed. Above all the constant attention of a concerned physician or healer who did his utmost to ensure they were both comfortable and prepared for the removal of their disability. More caution was indicated in cases where a patient had suffered the loss of a limb - so that while his particular concoction of ambrosia was both portable and powerful using it on those cases which most required it was often the most dangerous of all.
No one had snapped yet, that he knew of.
But it was a near thing.
This was what he'd meant to tell Eir, if only she hadn't scurried off. She'd asked him to wait so he would wait. That did not, however, mean that Asklepios was enjoying the sensation. Waiting was shaving your face with a dull razor. Waiting was scratching a mosquito bite long after it stopped itching out of spite. Waiting was limping to the toilet and counting in your head to avoid early evacuation. Safe to say that he hated waiting. Safer to say that Eir would be all apologies when she returned, so he should try not to scowl. Asklepios realized then he was scowling. That wouldn't do. The Greek schooled his face into a sort of patient stoic calm accepting enduring face - sort of - and on the very moment, Eir appeared once more. She looked pale for some reason to him, missing something or perhaps somethings that had been with her when she'd gone.