"..." This does not quite fit. Not well, not easily, and there is still something here he is missing. He opens his mouth to ask when the rubbing catches his attention, the attempt to wipe away the bruise. He sighs and steps in, like he always has, to take Alistair's jaw in hand.

"Let me see-" Like he can fix it, and he can. A small jar of salve from his pocket that smells of clove and faintly of elfroot that he could just leave for Alistair to use- but he thinks nothing at all of scooping out a portion and rubbing it against the mark himself. "Give it an hour or so after this soaks in, and it should fade."