"They're the clever ones. Sometimes they coat their blades with—" Shit, shit, shit. Maybe he'll be angry again when he's less worried. "Just let me see."

Or tell him it was a stone, scraped against in the scuffle. A clean one. If anything underground here is clean. He comes closer and drops expectantly to one knee.

"You need to see a healer," he announces, too. He doesn't care how bad or not bad it is underneath.