It was with a certain amount of relief to the Swordmaster to see Verissa standing at the tiny stove, even if it meant she had rifled through his stuff. In the years since Wren he had become quite particular about his things, few in number as they were. She hadn't collapsed into a weeping lump, or tried to run, or tried to attack him, all of which might have made the day end quite badly for her indeed. But Verissa seemed resilient, and he was glad he had bothered to send Shenzi to see her. But apparently taking a slave meant sacrificing his ale mug. With an incredulous frown, Ash followed Verissa to the table, intent on snatching his mug back. He was going to have to set some boundaries, it seemed...

Oh. [color=707070][i]"I should have known,"[/i][/color] he muttered under his breath, watching the steam rise from the mug with a resigned sort of anticipation. If getting sliced was as much an ordeal as getting stitched up he would have been far less likely to do it.

Verissa's bold voice drew Asher's gaze and he turned to face her, one of his dark eyebrows inching up as she tried to boss him around. The tone of Healers and fed-up mothers everywhere. If she weren't his slave he might have felt thoroughly chastened. The corner of his mouth twitched, the hint of a grin amid the long stubble of his roguish beard. 

He would have rather walked himself to the Healers tent than force this woman to clean him up after he'd captured her and brought her so far from everything she loved. He did indeed sit down, watching Verissa over the rim of his mug as he sipped on the tea. No amount of honey could hide the bitterness of herbs, and he hoped that she'd put something in to dull the pain.

The silent brooding gaze followed Verissa until she disappeared behind him. He tensed, torso tightening. How many stories had he heard about Kvaren who'd been knifed or poisoned in their sleep by vengeful slaves? Shouldn't he be more cautious about turning his back to her?

It was that moment when he decided that if he was going mistrust Verissa, as though she were a viper in his bedroll, he might as well just sell her now, which he didn't want to do. Asher relaxed into his chair, enjoying the sensation of warm wet cloth wiping the gore and grime from his skin. [color=707070]"Hmmm..."[/color] already barely able to keep his eyes open, the warrior let his head roll to the uninjured shoulder.

This was what being a succesful Swordmaster was all about! Pretty girls touching his naked...

[color=707070]"Yah!"[/color] Asher's eyes flew open, his big hand gripping the arm of the wooden chair so hard it creaked under the strain. The wound had laid a large section of skin open all the way down to the muscle and as the warm water seeped under and Verissa cleaned the crust of serum and blood away it burned and ached at the same time. [i][color=707070]"Warn me before you start digging around in my shoulder woman!..."[/color][/i]

[color=707070]"I mean..."[/color] He switched languages hastily, regaining his composure. [color=707070]"...ouch."[/color]

After the initial shock as Verissa was forced to freshen the wound slightly before closing it up, Asher was able to keep still by focusing all his attention on making sure his spine was glued to the back of the chair. It was tedious, agonizing, and his brow glistened with sweat from enduring the pain of the suturing when she was done. It was only sheer stubborness that kept him from being one of those people who had to be literally held down.

Once she was finished, Asher remained in his seat, alternately testing his range of movement in the bandage and sipping the tea Verissa had made for him. While Verissa was busy tidying all the implements she had used for her craft, Asher summoned the energy to get up and move over to the bedroll he had brought. More than just a sleeping bag, it was a padded mat with several layers of linen and supple animal hide. For her own sake he wanted her to be comfortable, and the last thing he needed was to be the Swordmaster who didn't look after his slave. 

He unrolled it, positioning it on the other side of the partition from where he would sleep, and close enough to the pole that the chain would reach. 

When he was done, he stood over her, reaching over to take a pinch of the pumpkin bread and pop it in his mouth. [color=707070][i]"Thank you."[/i][/color] It was said with a gentle gesture like scooping something precious towards his chest. He repeated it before explaining. [color=707070]"That is how we say 'thank you' in Kvaren. My arm feels better already."[/color] It didn't really, but now that it was taken care of he could focus his attention elsewhere.

[color=707070]"It's going to be tough to refuse offers of drink but I think I can manage."[/color] He grinned a bit ruefully. [color=707070]"Now when you're done eating, go lay down."[/color] It was said a bit sternly, as was his habit, and he was only thinking about the tiredness he saw in her face. He didn't think about how it would sound, especially when he went to tie the flaps of the tent close and then put his feet up on the chair one at a time to start unlacing his boots.