The coming of old age and immediate healing. Asklepios didn't know what that meant. Was she admitting that she couldn't do what he could do? Tonics that set things right in mere seconds? Ambrosia was a powerful voodoo, as he'd once told Philammon while waggling his eyebrows in a most exaggerated fashion. Figuring out why Eir was the way that Eir was, and why she couldn't do some things, was probably a waste oif his time instead of an actual beneficial pursuit. At the end of it he still wouldn't know where Eir's whimsical and sometimes odd nature came from, he wouldn't know where she had gone, and he wouldn't know who Tyr was or why he was currently experiencing an emergency. The questions should have upset him, but professional courtesy being what it was he didn't want to cause a scene. That, and he actually did like her.
If he was confused, that was par for the course when it came to Eir.
"Of course," he assured her. "You'll find that it's quite potent. Don't waste it on a headache, now!"
Of course Eir didn't really need the words of caution, any more than she needed his bearded grin or the waggling of his finger. It was the only thing he could think of to say, since his mind was burning with questions that he wanted to ask her. What was going on? Could he help in some way? If she was as terrible at immediate healing as she seemed to suggest, he could be of great use - Asklepios could do such things if the situation called for it. Then again, she had taken the vial herself, hadn't she? Maybe there was something else he could have done. Asklepios did hate to feel useless. And sitting around, drinking mead or brewing potions, did not satisfy his desire to do as much as he could. In fact all it did was remind him rather pointedly that he wasn't doing as much as he could.