He wouldn't offer if he didn't mean it, would he? Natsumi studied the pale face, the whiskey-brown eyes and flash of white teeth. He didn't sound exactly happy to hear that Kaito had mentioned him, or terribly anxious to have the world hear of his skill. Had Ibiki mentioned the distinction between a true medic and a field medic? She couldn't recall. But Ibiki had recommended him.

More to the point, Ibiki had recommended this man when he thought she needed a rape examination more than a bruise-healing. Even taking into account all of Ibiki's disclaimers, that had to mean something.

His smile was practiced, easy, but still a little frayed around the edges. Thin lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes promised distinguished wrinkles in thirty years; now he just looked tired. But the invitation seemed sincere. Perhaps he hoped he could convince her not to spread the word any further. Or perhaps he was more of a medic than he claimed.

"If you're sure I wouldn't be disturbing you, senpai. I'd appreciate it." She'd definitely have to bring him cookies, she decided. And she wouldn't look at the bed. Or his hair. (Did no one in ANBU own a comb?)