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Gwenog Jones (haveyoumet_) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Gwenog squinted at him, desperately unsure he'd be able to manage all the healing he needed. With her father being a doctor she was used to making sure professionals took care of her, and between dancing and quidditch that attitude had only been deepened, no matter how tough she wanted to be. But while, yes, she wanted to help, she didn't want to interfere as such.

When she saw his hand she winced. "Oh fuck," she muttered and took a deep breath to steel herself. "I think I can, but this is going fucking hurt. I know you're in pain, but I'm serious. I've broken my hand before, this won't be a picnic." Actually she'd completely smashed her hand one time when she mis-judged the angle of a bludger and it smashed into her hand instead of the bat. It had been agony.

"Okay. One at a time," she said. She looked at his hand carefully, casting a quick lumos to see better. "You want to bite on something so people don't think I'm murdering you?" she asked dispassionately. She could transfigure a stick or a leather belt or something for him. She'd do his forefinger first and thumb last. Not that she was sure she wouldn't make it all worse. And fuck only knew if she could get in massive trouble for doing it. Not that she thought either of them would be telling anyone. Ever.