Putting her fingers upon it is almost the first thing she does—

which hurts enough to make her sorry for doing it. Of course: magic isn’t a limitless resource. The work he’s being asked to do is already delicate, difficult, complex. The same way no one’s chugging an entire healing potion for a bruise— the break is what matters, what needs fixing. The bruising, the tenderness, time will heal those things the way it would’ve without his intervention. Or: not exactly as it would have. Specifically.

That she can touch it and only hiss, though. That it feels like it’s healing, not...

She feels sort of ill, but that probably has more to do with how little she’s been managing to eat. How much she’s immediately going to be able to keep down is another story entirely. And with her head pounding and her stomach roiling and the disconcerting awareness of what Isaac’s fingers taste like,

“I think we can safely say,” more clearly than before, “that I fucking owe you, Isaac.”