His wounds were consistent with a few animals she had in mind, and she'd sorely hoped she had ms-read the chart. At his lament she gave a shrug and a small smile. If it were her home back in the Hebrides, she would have a hearty case of whiskey stocked to his heart's content, courtesy of her family.

He slipped off the rest of his shirt on the side that was affected. If she weren't a MacFusty and had to patch up her brothers as well as the rest of her family, she would be a bit more shy - given her healer status though, that modesty card had flown out the proverbial window. She examined the wound, thoroughly invested in how this man had come in contact with such an animal.

His sardonic tone let Tilda know it likely wasn't his own stupidity that got him in this pickle. Sure enough, as the story progressed, so did the furrow in Tilda's brow. Her eyes widened as well as he let her know that some idiot had tried to keep a Tebo as a pet.

Her family being dragon keepers and tamers, Tilda knew it could be potentially heavy handed for her to critique someone trying to keep such a dangerous animal. Still, she judged and she judged harshly. "No," she said, her voice incredulous. "No they are not." What idiot kept a tebo as a pet?! She exhaled through her nose. Sometimes she wanted to pummel people. This was one of those days.

She set about waving her wand to summon various remedies to her; ointment to numb the area, dittany, bandages, etc. As she took the ointment, she shook her head in disbelief. "Stupid people, thinking they can control animals when they just can't..." she muttered under her breath. She rose her voice to a normal level as she spoke to Mr. Scamander. "And I assume once you arrived the chap keeping the pet started to talk about how it's usually so friendly, yes?"

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