Between the pair of matching compliments, Jasper was almost reassured until given the opportunity to overthink it and-- really, this wasn't the time. Where had they been? What if that hole through Misty's hair had been that much lower? Rooted to his seat for a moment, Jasper fussily pushed his glasses up his nose then collected his pen, not sure how to better convey that they were collectively more capable than stumbling in in shambles, but couldn't maintain the weak illusion. If he knew where anything in this office was, it was the first aide kit, which he produced mystically from his seat before strutting rapidly to meet the pair in the middle of the room (around the desk, over the couch and their client, kit clutched in both hands against his chest). "This is Mr. Lebeau," he introduced, back to the man as he grimaced at Colleen's burnt clothes and tried to sort out what required medical attention or a tailor. "He has a monster problem."