"It is," Alaric said, stepping forward and nodding to the girl humbly. "And you are Erin, and you are Jerek, correct? I apologize for interrupting, but I had hoped to check on Master Vor'loch."

Continuing his movement into the room, Alaric looked the noghri up and down, finding him to be in much better condition than most men would be, if they were to suffer from similar injuries. All things considered, the man looked good. The tank was clearly doing its job.

"I won't lie to you, Master Vor'loch..." He continued, checking on the recovering Jedi from every available angle. "Even if you hadn't been hit with that shrapnel, I wouldn't have expected you to survive the flight from the temple. Your injuries clearly defined your level of triage, and a more... objective medic wouldn't have bothered removing the shrapnel at all."

Alaric continued to pace about the ward, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. He didn't want to see the almost inevitable expressions of disgust or horror coming from his fellow padawans. But he needed to get the confession over with.

"You may very well owe Jerek your life, Master. I must admit that it was only a desire to avoid the weight of another grieving child on my conscience that I treated you so thoroughly. Please understand that I am not without empathy, but I wanted you to know how close you were to death. I hope that you hold that knowledge with you, so that you may better appreciate the life you have left."

The feeorin Jedi finally made eye contact with Vor'loch, and he offered an uncharacteristic smile, worn as it may have looked.

"Call it a silver lining. Nothing quite like a near-death-experience to give one a better appreciation for each day that follows."