Enid shrugged at him. It felt like he didn't understand what she was trying to say, but she wasn't sure how to say it any better. Sometimes she thought that she was a healer because she wanted to help people; sometimes she thought that she was a healer because she liked to feel smart. The impact was still the same, but that didn't mean she felt particularly noble about it.

She took one last large sip of her ale. The dregs remained, but Enid hopped off of the barstool and put a Knut on the counter to pay. "Shall we go?" she asked. He hadn't finished his whiskey — but he'd mostly been playing with it.