Berserker's expression changes slightly as Waver speaks -- if he could understand these godforsaken emotions, he'd know it was empathy he's feeling. He wants to comfort him and offer some sort of physical affection, but he doesn't. It's rare he shows affection at all and though he trusts Geralt, he's an outsider and he's unwilling to show much vulnerability in front of him. Still, the need gnaws at him and he chokes it back, letting it fester like everything else. He can learn to deal with this discomfort.

A distraction presents itself in the form of the medic bag in his hand. Berserker has a task and it's like any other, one he does with precision and efficiency. He digs through the bag in search of the items Geralt asks for. Everything's at least labeled, if in absolute disarray. A couple of the needed items are in there, however...

"Alchemy paste and white oil, no honeysuckle."

He'd gone through the contents at least twice, absolutely sure he didn't miss it.

"You can check again once we get him settled, but I don't see any in here."