A Sharp Scratch

"I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I were squeamish," she murmured with a smirk, leaning in close to clean his arm up with quick, precise dabs of the cloth, revealing the extent of the still sluggishly bleeding lacerations. "And please, feel free to call me Isla. Everyone else does..." Pausing to examine him further, she narrowed her eyes and straightened up again as he coughed. She didn't like the sound of his chest at all - the wounds there must have been deep to cause internal problems. "For your arm, a few of the cuts will need sutures but some I can dress and they'll close up themselves. The rest of you, though..." Isla arched an eyebrow and stood back from him so she could get fresh cloth to clean him up. "Can you take a few deep breaths for me?" she asked, wanting to figure out the extent of his injuries before she commited to fixing up his arm. Isla the flesh is weak