[ "some injuries", he says, and ness immediately, unsubtly looks down at his scarred hands. if he's worried about insensitive questions, though, none seem to be forthcoming—she just looks back up to listen as stephen finishes his explanation, her lips part in precursor to a comment, or perhaps a question—

and then she shudders forward, wincing. the insistent squirming that precedes a magical outburst has started in her stomach, and this time it's not waiting around— she can feel it already climbing up her trunk, lashing toward her anchor hand: it's been moving quicker ever since the magebane. like it knows that she can cut it off now, and it doesn't want to give her the opportunity. ]

Sorry, [ she gasps, ] one second!

[ there's a vial of magebane in a pouch on her belt, but it's hard to call up the dexterity for clasps and flaps with her off-hand while simultaneously trying to stave off a tentacled maelstrom in the other. ness fumbles at the pouch, holding her breath like somehow that might keep the outburst from manifesting. ]