"Sit back down and let me see your finger." She speaks very gently, the tone she usually reserves for skittish children or animals and scared patients. Zulf needs to see a mind-healer. Many people do after traumatic events. It's glaringly obvious, and if she were home she'd already be trying to herd him in the right direction. Rosethorn has no idea whether anyone here in the Bastion qualifies, though. She certainly doesn't. Rosethorn can only put medicine on things and hope that works. She'll be no help to Zulf, except with that small puncture wound.

Her hand is already at her belt pouch to grab something to clean and help heal it. Finger pricks aren't usually worth worrying about, but he has a lot left to do and that was worse than the kind of prick he'd get sewing. Besides, who knows how clean the needle is. "It's an awfully big pile of work to get through in a short amount of time," she continues quietly, "and I'm not bad with a needle."