[Hubert nods, his eyes flicking to a woman in a nightgown and a guard's coat scurrying over to them. A hastily awoken healer, he guessed. His torn shoulder still ached horribly even after Leslie's aid, as did the side of his face, and knees and hands and everywhere else he'd bounced off the rough street.]

[But his eyes return to Leslie. Her entire being was stretched thin, from her endurance to her bravery. Tonight had already asked more than one of her age should ever be, and she answered valiantly. To fold now wasn't weakness, but a luxury—a child's luxury, and one Hubert wondered how often she'd ever had the chance to take.]

[He wouldn't take this chance from her by asking a little more of her bravery.]

[So Hubert leverages the haft of the Arrow like a walking stick, commanding his rattled bones to move, fighting his way to his feet. The other Witch approaches, asking about wounds, broken bones, and before she can take too much of their time, he cuts her off.]

Just enough to stitch the flesh, and her ankle, if you would. We'll manage from there; you have our gratitude.

[The woman purses her lips in blatant disapproval, but obliges. Just a little to stave off infection (in his case) and tide them along—the rest would take too long for his liking. His bruising and anything still torn under his shoulder's newly repaired skin could be tended to later.]

[Hubert glances at Leslie as the healer woman departs, ready to begin their long walk.] It will be an easier journey without that limp of yours. You'll have plenty of time to think of an explanation for this foolishness of yours. Lady Edelgard will no doubt demand to know why you were outside the wall at night. This has caused her great distress.

[But even as his voice remains level, even as he'd so far demanded nothing of Leslie, Hubert wasn't without his sternness.]