Anders started to laugh as the man went on, looking at his bottle and then shooting the strange fellow a sideways look. At the introduction his eyebrows lifted. His eyes immediately brightened.
"Méiyǒu yúnòng! A real doctor, all proper an' everythin'?" he said, then whistled and stuck out the injured arm, offering his hand. "I'm Anders, field medic former of the Browncoat Rebellion. It's an honor to meet a learned man, sir."
He glanced at the opened wound and then shrugged with a chuckle. "Ah, yeah. Think I tore the stitches retrievin' this prize here. Ain't no matter, they got rid of all the bathtubs upstairs, so I'm gonna go find that pretty giant tank.... the swimmin' pool, s'it called? Once my bum leg decides to be useful for another short while." He patted his right leg. It had been months since the shrapnel had torn through it, but that was just long enough for Anders to work out that he'd be carrying it in his limp for the rest of his days. No matter, though. He'd already started to learn how to work around it.