"Easy now. I'll take care of everything in a few minutes," he said placidly, though he wasn't feeling terribly calm. There was a reason they weren't supposed to tend to people they cared about, and Hannah was his friend, one forged in the pain and understanding they'd grown to share as they both healed since the explosion. But he was good enough to be able to be calm enough to take care of her.
He was smart enough to apparate them just outside of his home, and his clever fingers were already gathering her hair and pulling it up and back, as he was rather certain she was going to lose the contents of her stomach from the apparating. One hand was subtly cooler than the other -- Dora did excellent work, but the temperature of his prosthetic was always subtly different from his real hand, in one direction or the other.