"I was going to try that if you didn't agree to this." He means hit her with a chair to knock her out. She gets a small, tight smile as he peels her wet shirt away from the wound. It's an ugly thing, and he feels an entirely rational surge of rage at the sight of it.

"You shouldn't have done this," he mutters, reaching over her for a nearby waterskin. They'd scooped up as much of the healing waters as they could effectively carry before leaving that shithole of a town, and he doesn't hesitate in making use of it now.