The second salve went on quickly. She wiped her hands on the towel, capping her salves and placing them back in the satchel. She then pulled out a thin strip of fabric, and cut them to the size of the wound.
"That's because that's not where I go to drink..." she gave him a wicked smile. "There aren't any weyrbrats there to tempt away with sweets."
She gave a sigh at the last. Thank yous for helping dragons. For doing her Craft, for saving those that saved her. "You don't owe me anything. I help the dragons because I want to, not for any other reason." Her tone was prickly. She'd used those thanks far too often at Fort to curry one favor or another for the Resistance. And look where that had gotten her. Trading favors, unquestioned rides for deliveries, or in some cases, allowing herself to be bedded by the grateful rider to steal something the Resistance needed while he slept later. She'd never not healed a dragon. But she'd also always said yes to the thank yous. And that life was behind her.
She looked at his wine though. "Maybe if you had a skull though..." It was an attempt at humor to made up for the prickliness. She closed her eyes briefly before turning back to Gamyth.
"Now it's time for us to move onto treating the rest of your leg, the muscles and the hide that is stretched and strained as a result." She reached down into her bag, pulling a strange looking wooden implement out. She turned to Z'go. "You should learn to do this. I have more of these in my shop. You'll need to do this twice a day until that wound is completely healed. And you'll need oil. I assume you have some. For the dragon."