Any measure of assistance is, well, magical to me, [ he admits ruefully, accepting Gorgug's equivocation that he's not a real healer as important information -- but insisting that what he can do is still significant. All too often, it comes down to what those you trust are capable of, and Harold thinks Gorgug is quite trustworthy already.

He's still carefully prodding at where the wound was, but finally wrenches his attention away. He feels rather jarred back to reality from where he'd been before, lost off in the trenches of his mind somewhere, perhaps. ]

Thank you. I had quite resigned myself to a long healing process. [ It's genuine gratitude, honestly spoken. ]

... But I'm sure you didn't come here to heal me. [ Something sparks in his memory. ] Oh-- we were working on something, weren't we?