Garrot has no idea she's about to deplete the entire island's reserves of literally every ingredient used in onion rings, and he doesn't care. He's ludicrously wealthy, after all! But his ears perk up and his eyes widen at the scabbing on her arm. It worked so fast! Magic is bullshit and he kinda loves it. And when she brings the focus to the bandages on her head, Garrot only looks to the ceiling and begins imagining what Haizea might look like once everything's healed.

"You can always cover it with a tattoo if you're embarrassed!" He's playful, trying to get a laugh out of her, because that's better medicine than magic. And then he gestures towards his, well, entire upper body. Very tattooed. It's a real thing people do after surgeries, and a side-of-the-head tattoo doesn't sound totally off-brand for Haizea.

But then Garrot pauses for a moment, words on the tip of his tongue. He wants to say she's still able to fight, still alive, and that's what matters, but he knows they both know that. He can pick up enough on that bitterness and his pride is plenty wounded with how little he helped during the fight itself, so he can empathize.

"Fuck your pride, scars are hot." Garrot's chosen to build her up instead, waggling an eyebrow suggestively before crossing his arms in front of his spot on their table. Between his elbows and wrists are a surprising amount of faded nicks and cuts. He's complimenting himself as much as Haizea, let's be honest.