Owen took the bottle she offered, and drank it without hesitation- he trusted her, of course, and it seemed she had come prepared for this situation. (Though he was sure it wasn't him that she had intended these remedies for.) The mixture was sweet, as she'd said- surprisingly so, admittedly- and he kept hold of the bottle once she was done, as her hands were still full.
He watched as she worked, and though he hated to admit it, Owen knew that she would do a better job of tending to his wounds than he, himself, would. "You may," he replied, nodding once. "Thank you, my lady."