"What?!" Garrot's incredulous, his eyes go wide with shock and his tone gets hushed and venomous. "Bullshit it's nothing to worry about! I don't care how many people you've killed, you deserve the same standard of care as anyone else." As much as he wants to go on a rant about how Zafika's caretakers and their lawyers are going to have to sleep with every eye open, it's... not the time. So he'll file it away for later, and finally let go of Zafika's arm.

"I've decided I'm your doctor now, Zafika." He nods, and he's back to smiling as his hands go behind his back again. "So you're gonna have to check in with me every day or so to make sure you're maintaining proper nutrition and mobility." The hands come back cradling a box which- pssssh! -opens like a high-tech space tacklebox. "You're also getting at least one home-cooked meal out of me, and you can tell me whatever's on your mind 'cause of doctor-patient confidentiality."

Then his hands settle on one compartment, pulling out a tube of some kind. "Put some of this cream on your wrists before you go to sleep tonight and tomorrow, and it should accelerate healing a bit- things should clear up in three or four days." Then his hand reaches out offering it to his new charge, free of charge, as his eyes dart back towards his coat and those food bars. He's still nice and warm and smiling, because Garrot's figured out how to handle this entire situation now. "Oh, and eat when you can. Doctor's orders, got it?"