Dora ran her thumb along the side of his hand and down to his wrist, just about reaching the tip of a thick scar ridge that poked out from the sleeve of his shirt. Her gaze lingered there, fixing on the contrast between faded pink and unblemished skin, and then the bone of his wrist, and then his eyes again.
"They're providing Wolfsbane?" It was probably the only wholly good news she had heard all evening. She exhaled and a note of relief worked its way through her voice. "Good. That's good. So at least some people are pushing for progress. And you can be safe and sleepy come the moon." The last part is enough for her to muster a small sad smile.