"For some reason thieves and cowards tend to make poor travelling companions, I can't fathom why." Nasty business. Anders makes a rueful. "Brave of you to step in. Good thing your prisoner wasn't a better shot."

Once the ugly knot of flesh is exposed, Anders bundles up the soiled bandage and sets it aside, then turns to survey the injury itself. There are many days when he feels as though his abilities are going to waste here, knowing there are darkspawn to fight at home and Karl is rotting away in some Free Marcher cell, but it's moments like these that he's glad he's here and can leave people a little better than when he came.

He gives a confident nod, followed by an equally confident smile. "Well, not to worry. This is no match for a spirit healer from Thedas. Just sit back and relax and you should feel some relief in a moment."

The advantage to magic is that it doesn't require half the discomfort and mess of stitches; holding his hands above her shoulder, he calls forth his mana for the spell, which manifests as a soft, cool glow about his hands. The light passes from them to Clementine's wound, settling deep in the muscle, dulling pain and repairing flesh. Bit by bit, the healing spell finds what damage the bullet had done and works to undo it.

"You look less like a pincushion already."