Well, that was out of the question. As much as Lou felt bad for the damage the dog had caused, he didn't feel so apologetic he was about to hand over his actual identity and start all of the questions that would bring up. Nor did he have any money to pay for these supposed damages, whatever the man imagined they amounted to — aside from the wand, Lou had seen nothing that could not be set to rights by a skilled wizard with a functional wand in the matter of a few minutes. It was clear the other man didn't want his help, though, which meant he would have to tell him something.

"An owl addressed to Charlie Williams should reach me," he said. Why not? They had before, when Zelda Fisk had been writing him to ask for dancing advice. He wasn't sure how owls without any further direction had ever found his cabin in the woods when all they had to go on was a pseudonym, but... well, magic.

"And... er, for the leg," he continued, rather awkwardly. "I wasn't — exactly clear on what to look for." He'd never seen anyone with a prosthetic limb before, at least that he knew of, and had certainly never seen such a limb devoid of the context of a human body to identify it for what it was.