[He should be shoving Figaro off of him, bandage his arm, take care of business instead of whatever-this-is, but it's...it's nice. It's warm. He feels-

Trusted, of all things, and not because he's a Silvermane Guard captain, if anything in defiance of that, because of something else, and that- it's a nice feeling. Strange. But nice. He wraps one arm around Figaro as best as he can, a little stubbornly.]

I'll be fine. I've dealt with far worse wounds than a bite from you, Figaro. [...] You're less...bony than you were when we first met. [A bit more flesh to him, a little less gaunt.]