Even now, decades into his profession, Syd still wasn't desensitized to other people's discomfort. The pain potion was taking a little longer to sink in than he would have liked, but Miss Bartleby had done a fine job with her clean up and the application of the dittany. Moving in a little closer to watch the dittany do its job, satisfied with the way everything seemed to be closing up.

"It's a lot like herding cats, I imagine." That was always Syd's favorite response to the question. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last it was directed at him, so he was well-prepared in an answer. "Lots of moving parts, lots of things that could go wrong. But if everyone does their job the way they're supposed to, things tend to wind up they way they're intended to." He rather thought Miss Bartleby would benefit from his answer too. Lots of his colleagues gave the broader spiel on how rewarding it was, and it was, but it was disheartening and hard as hell too. He refused to sugar coat it.

His intern passed him a glance seeking approval on the process and Syd gave her an approving nod. She had done alright, given the situation. She was a bright kid, she'd be alright. "Everything seems to be in order, Miss Fairchild, you were indeed lucky. It'll likely be sore for a few days and we'll get you set up with something to help with that." Thank Merlin it hadn't actually been a griffin attack. That would have required far more intervention.

"Miss Bartleby will help you get changed into something more comfortable and I will see what I can do about locating your family." Syd would have to step our regardless, he may as well make himself useful. "I'll send them in when I find them." He assured her. "In the mean time you're in good hands."