Peter ran a damp cloth over Beth's face. He wasn't sure why; his mother had always done that for him when he was sick, so it seemed like the right thing to do. He was fairly confident this should work. Beth usually healed well, and once the silver was neutralized by the bezoar, the theory went that she would mend right up. He wasn't sure if that was actually the case, but it was worth hoping for.
"In a bit," he promised. Truthfully, he wasn't sure he had anything left to do, but he was afraid of hurting her. If she fell asleep before he was done making himself busy, he wouldn't have to risk it, nor would he have to tell her why he was taking his time.