"You aren't the only one then. We passed it off to another department figure out what kind of home experiment it was," he admitted, allowing some of the befuddlement to slip through into his voice despite the situation. He certainly had gone in to the lady's greenhouse expecting to get fireball blasted by an onion. He still wasn't entirely sure he hadn't imagined the whole thing.

Or at least he wouldn't be sure if it wasn't for the light burns across his chest (and his poor waistcoat discarded on the floor) and the healer's fingers pressed lightly against them. It hurt, but no more than his shirt had rubbing against. Not enough to pull away. "Then you should be able to work just as fine if I do this." Grinning, he leaned forwards further, pushing into her space and pushing more of his weight into her finger tips. But he relented as she backed away, finally rising from his chair but not following her her.

But then she pulled a jar of slave out of her bag and he wanted to groan. He could behave. Probably.
""