Ash’s gaze dropped to her sleeves. Dove kept her hands where they were, refusing to turn herself into an exhibit because he had finally connected yesterday’s grip with today’s bottle.
"Kael examined you," he said.
"He asked first. You should try it sometime."
Ash looked toward the clinic passage. For a moment she thought he would call the healer back, and her stomach tightened at the thought of explaining her wrists to both of them over a counter full of lip balm.
"Thorne remains outside the occupied passages," he said instead.
"Good. That doesn’t change what you said to me."
His expression closed. "We will discuss the water after Kael examines it."
He left before she could decide whether throwing a mitten would be worth losing the mitten. She waited until his black hair vanished beyond the hall column, then sat behind the tarp with the bottle pressed between her knees.
He had believed the water immediately. Her refusal had apparently needed more paperwork.
Dove let herself be angry without making it useful. She did not clean, count, or plan for several minutes. The warm pipe behind her shoulder clicked once, and she watched a drop slide down the inside of the bottle until it joined the rest.
Eventually she asked Sprout for the balance. Twenty-four coins, it reported, including four for Ash’s surprise during their argument. She told it to keep the automatic notices off. Getting paid because he had noticed her injuries felt like finding loose change beside a car wreck.
"The money stays," she added. "I am upset, not rich."
"Your sales mission is complete," Sprout said. "Three trades, ten bonus coins already credited."
"Tomorrow I want the tasks where I can see them, sales and male nonsense. Show me what they unlock, too. I shouldn’t need to interview you every time I want clean teeth."
"A daily mission panel can remain visible. Relationship commentary will stay disabled."
"Wonderful. You’ve discovered the difference between a work schedule and a dating app."
She stored the personal bottle and sale goods while holding each one, then reopened the stall. An ordinary customer wanted a balm tin but offered a button with no matching coat. Dove declined. The man left offended, proving civilization had survived in at least one important form.
Later Kael came to the counter carrying a clean empty bottle. He set it down before saying anything about the sample.
"Same size," he said. "Check the cap."
She did, because gratitude did not make leaks less annoying. The seal held, and she crossed out the container debt on her paper. He had remembered the dull little part of their agreement without needing to be chased.
"I have a split in my thumb from washing," he said. "It was there before you brought me into this. If you’re willing, I’d like to use one drop from the sample on it."
He showed her a narrow crack beside the nail. Dove could see the dry skin surrounding it. She had sold hand cream to enough people in winter to recognize the problem without being a doctor.
"You’re the patient, so you get to decide what happens to your thumb," she said. "I just don’t want it turning into a public show."
"The clinic has a screen. Ash can come if you agree."
She considered leaving him out simply because she could. Unfortunately, he would ask questions afterward, and she wanted to hear the same results he did. She agreed to the screen and three people, with no extra audience.
Dove shut the gate after storing her stock, kept her notes in her pocket, and walked beside Kael through the occupied wash benches. She disliked having to think about the route. She took it anyway.
In the clinic, Ash waited by a shelf while Kael finished washing his hands. The sample stood capped in a little tray. Nothing had been poured out, and Kael showed her the level before opening it.
She stayed near the screen’s gap. Kael asked whether she wanted it closed, and she said no. Privacy was helpful; feeling trapped with Ash was not.
One drop wet Kael’s thumb. The split drew together slowly enough for Dove to see its edges change, then left a pale patch that matched the surrounding skin. He bent the joint, waited, and pressed gently beside the nail.
"The split has closed," he said. "It doesn’t sting when I move it. That is all we know from this test."
Ash touched an old scar on the back of his other hand. "What about these?"
Dove looked at the pale line. "You can ask, but I don’t know."
Kael measured another drop onto the scar with Ash’s agreement. They waited while footsteps passed the screen and someone coughed beyond it. Nothing visible changed. Ash wiped the damp spot with the towel Kael offered.
Failure should have disappointed her. Instead she felt a small, shameful relief. Something about her miracle had stayed ordinary enough to resist a command.
"We aren’t increasing the amount just because we don’t like the result," Kael said. "Not today."
Ash gave him a hard look, then nodded once. Dove filed that away. The healer’s quiet voice did not mean he asked permission to have opinions.
Kael recapped the sample and returned it to her. He had used two drops, and no patient had received any. She could bring it back if she chose to continue, he said, but he would not keep something she was already watching this closely.
She wanted to tell him that she was not usually like this. Then she remembered the delivery drivers at her old job, the missing boxes, and the manager who blamed whoever had signed last. Perhaps she had always been a little like this. Here it mattered more.
"Thank you for giving it back," she said.
"It was yours."
Before she left, Dove pointed toward the clinic supplies. "If you ever want to trade powdered milk, I finally found coffee. Drinking it black every morning feels like a punishment I haven’t earned yet."
Kael said he would keep it in mind, and she left the request there. She had asked for a trade, not assigned him a hunt.
The answer about her bottle stayed with her on the walk home. She carried the sample inside her pocket, aware of its small weight, and tried not to build a whole person out of two decent words.
At the stall, she stored it separately from the replacement bottle. The sample would remain for testing. The replacement returned to sale stock. She wrote both down before tiredness could turn three containers into a magical fourth.
Sprout waited until she asked what else she should know before using more water. Its reply appeared across her thoughts in the same neat lettering it used for shampoo prices.
The pool could be drawn with different intentions, it reminded her. Healing was only the first option.
The other two were calming and strengthening. Dove stared at the bottle, suddenly wondering what someone like Ash might ask a calming dose to do.