He couldn't quite claim surprise as the woman melted within his grasp, the full dead weight of her bodice reconciled within his arms. He also wasn't foolish enough to believe the painfully obvious avoidance of the other patrons that surrounded the bar. It was of no surprise that several peripherals found them after they had passed, and his inquiry was in the good faith that, given the chance, those who would know of the circumstances he was otherwise ignorant of would weave any information they could for a quick shimmer of coin. Currency and threats were the best motivation for such intel here, a feat he knew all too well from his days with Huian. The feline was able to easily ply details from previously unwilling lips. Locations, what they wore, where they had gone, hells even their last meal.

He didn't want to be caught with his guard down should such a thing transpire tonight either. He would listen to the elderly woman weave the tale - enough that he knew enough. Such ugly business was often common among those of higher births, or so he had gathered. In his homeland, such betrothals had never been heard of. While their lives were often swift to end due to the dangers that they immersed themselves within to remain distant from the rest of the continent's life, they were never impressed upon or instructed who to love or who to wed. It wasn't until long after he had left the jungles that he had even heard of such a notion, though maybe it would have done well to better unite the scattered tribes of his people, it just wasn't a core within their beliefs or practices. If they had bonded together through matrimony and settled within bigger colonies, would the tragedy that had over taken them like a tsunami have so easily transpired? Would they have been better suited to defend themselves against the lycans?

He would merely push the thoughts aside shortly after they wandered within his cerebrum. Dismissing the what ifs, because that's all they were. In the end, it would do no good what so ever to dwell upon the poisons of the past. It was a lesson he hoped would come swiftly to this pair as well, to ease the budding well of emotion he could hear within the maid's vocals as she wove the tapestry of their fates. He would merely nod, a gentle dismissal and silent bid that she need not continue. Greed ever was the harshest vice and many more sins flourished from its rotting roots. “I cannot deny the fact that there is a rather strong possibility that trouble may brew again sir.” Long ear would twitch as the woman opened the door before him, allowing him and the woman's employer into the room. They were meagerly furnished, modest and straight forward as not many passerby lingered more than just over night here.  The stone crafted hearth lay against the far wall, a small table and a pair of chairs lingered just before the door. The wood was lacking varnish, from age or simple lack -there-of unknown. The make was reflected upon the simple bed frame, night stand and floor itself. Though the plank paneling under foot was worn much smoother than that of the other furniture with age and use.

Upon the mattress, he would settle the dame. “But it should not find its way to you, sir. It just seems unfair to leave you in the dark.” Straightening, he would turn towards Jenny once more, his arms crossing loosely over the breadth of his chest. "Don't worry about trouble finding me," he would assure, far from a stranger of the concept. After all, running with Huian's breed was naught but one difficulty after another. At least with this, even if he did get blood on his hands, we would be sure it was well earned. Not like the spun web of half truths and exaggerations he was often fed to lift his blade.

At her offered coinpurse, however, he would shake his head, a hand raised in dismissal of the token. “Will this be enough to cover the expenses?” "Don't worry about it for now. As I told you earlier, I'm not overly concerned about coin. Once she is whole and hale, then you can worry about my dues. Until then, keep it. City's gone to hell in a basket lately. Never know when you may need that until you're settled." With that, he made for the door to gather his necessities from his shop, though he would pause at the egress once more. "Lock the door behind me. When I'm back, I'll knock four times, pause, and then a fifth. Don't open it to anyone else, some of the folks 'round here are real bastards."


[feel free to skip ahead to him coming back if you'd like 8D]

The hood was pulled taunt over his head as he made his way through the downpour once more, thankfully it wasn't as bad now. Despite that fact, it was still far worse than what he ever would have advised anyone going out in, resistance or not. Key met lock and the door to his shop swung open without much opposition, a whispered groan of hinges and the murmur of the wood sweeping over the rough bristle of the rug which he neatly wiped his boots across to save himself some clean up in the morning.

His brow furrowed, his mental insistence to hurry clashing with the necessity to ensure he grabbed everything he needed because a second trip would nearly be wholly out of the question. To that end, he would opt to only grind what he didn't already have specifically on hand, along with a small pouch of herbs that he may need, depending on how bad the wound had festered, along with other variables to be considered. His work was conducted swiftly, and the back inventory of the more fresh tonics and salves served its purpose as well.

His last lingering hesitance manifested only as he stood before the rather large imposition of his claymore. One of the few remainders he had of 'home'. It was heavy, their tools and practices unlike those more refined and polished techniques here in a more civilized setting. It still served its purpose - and well, at that. His lips pressed into a thin, flat line as he removed it from its ornate holding upon the wall. Since departing his previous company - for the most part - it hadn't seen much use, but if it needed any maintenance, he could make do, at least for one evening. He wrapped it and the leather sheathe carefully to protect it as much as possible from the elements before shouldering it, the medical pack tucked carefully under the other arm.

His final stop was to the stable connected via the back entrance, to which his presence earned a swift and sharp rise of Aeternum's proud crown. The pegasus shifted her weight, stepping closer to him, yet falling short from wholly shoving her head against him. No doubt on account of the strange scents upon him and that of blood. She snorted and he smiled at her. "It's nothing bad this time, I promise." He vowed, and his honesty was rewarded with a huff of dismissal from the noble equine. "I do need a favor. May I have a feather, Aetrernum?"

---

“Welcome back, sir.” The maid greeted as he stepped back into the room. He noted that the lady of the hour was once more among the living. "I trust the two of you were left well enough alone?" he inquired, voice plagued by being out of breath following his rush back and once again up the stairs. While he spoke, his hand fished into the satchel, withdrawing a petite vial of strawberry hued liquid. He handed it off to Lady Primrose, a crooked simper lifting one side of his mouth. "Drink this first off, I promise, it will taste much better than the other would have." The order was accompanied by a slight tease, given her initial disgust.

"I believe, however, I'll have to ask the two of you to do something with your top." The smile vanquished itself, his gaze drawing away from her quickly to Jenny, his head tilting faintly. He knew not the ins and outs of most feminine attire here. From what he had gathered, the backs of dresses atimes opened up and just had entirely too many strings. He hadn't paid much mind to the constitution of her own clothing, but if naught else, she would simply just have to make do with lying face down while he cleaned the gash of silver. "I'll need to be able to clean the wound." Realizing that perhaps the request may seem a bit.... forward to the lady, unless her employee had informed her of the cause of her distress, he would avert his stare coolly to the small table he intended to set his mortar and pestle on if it was needed. "I can, uh, leave. If that would be more comfortable until she's ready." Regardless, he would begin to unburden himself, setting the vials, herbs and other more delicate tools upon the rough surface nearby, the heavier of the packs allowed to rest upon the floorboards which heaved a soft groan under it. 

If there was one thing his shop was known for, it was certainly the flavors of his potions. Many apothecarial stores could claim the same effects and efficiencies of their wares, and for most sales, things were quite simple to make. Most wards against common, simple illnesses and the like were rather simple to make, and even apprentices were able to be tasked with their creation - just the same as he had been by his father. His ability to improve upon the tastes of these compounds, however, remained a trade secret he had learned from the man that had raised him. While some had more liberty to be taken than others, even the most vile of concoctions could be imbued at least lightly for a more pleasant experience. Children were especially fond of them, and there was always quite the colorful display of cough syrups upon his shelves with a wide array of flavors to chose from. Sweets to fruits. Just as the one he'd brought her should have had the faint, pleasant remnants of strawberries, but this was not one he was at liberty to enhance much.

Still, she didn't gag at it, and her interest in it brought a faint smile to his features. It was always nice to have someone take heed in one's work, and in this prideful regard, he was no different. “…Fascinating…” came the soft whisper of her vocals as he continued to set up his makeshift work station. He would allow the maid's chuckle to roll off his back, paying little attention to the elder's potential teasing. Perhaps under lighter circumstances, he'd have vexed both of them with the crude humor often partaken in when he'd been in Hui's horde. No doubt some of their comments would have been enough to turn both of them red for days, however, the pressing scent of the festering infection certainly didn't make him feel as if he was at liberty to indulge in jesting.

Maybe he'd torment her later.

“Understood.” The elder spoke, bidding him to merely turn away, and he did, settling the full of his attention on the supplies he had brought with him. His tools were met with a disinfectant wipe from a vodka dampened towel, ensuring that they were not going to add anything to her already compromised flesh. “Oh, dear child,” his gaze would lift to the reflection in the mirror at the worried murmur of Jenny. The colorless imagery would display the dark ruin of her back, one that he hoped looked worse than it truly was. He didn't need to remind himself he wasn't a medic, and he could only do so much to provide care for her. It would be far more dangerous to try and pursue something he knew so little about compared to just sticking to what he knew until she could be seen by someone with the proper knowledge.

Taking one of the chairs from the table, he would turn it towards the bed side, likewise adjusting the basin of water and cloths provided by the innkeeper. "Apologies if this stings at any point." He would offer as he would take the set of tweezers. "Going to try and remove as much of the silver as I can, then give it a good flush and see what we've got from there." He would inform her, finding that most felt a bit more comfortable when they knew precisely what was happening - what plan was being executed. He did, however, cast an arched brow towards the maid when he saw the extent of scar tissue that riddled her spine, a slight frown finding his lips. Their past was none of his concern, he had to remind himself, and he would release a heavy breath as instead he would ignore the morbid curiosity. "There is a salve that can be made to help with this." He told her, assuming that the pulled and slight pucker of skin would make some movements awkward or tight. Maybe it had just been out of self-consciousness, but he recalled just how difficult the scars about his neck had, at one point, made it a slight difficulty to turn his head. With this intertwining mess, he could only imagine. Let alone the difficulty of healing the gash and infection besides.