Were she a lady with delicate sentiments, Tilda might have winced at his curse, however she was rather used to patients swearing in all sorts of fashions; at her, just in general, in pain, the possibilities were endless. She smiled genially though, finding his facial expressions rather amusing as he marveled at his newly fixed hand.

Tilda turned to leave him to his own devices as she started cleaning up her cart. Picking up the dittany bottle, she figured she might have a few more uses left in it before she had to request a new one from supplies. His exclamation caught her by surprise – both in the execution and subject matter, and she quickly fumbled with the bottle because she had nearly dropped it. "I ––!" She returned, her face flooding with color as the realization and memory suddenly resurfaced in her mind.

Merlin, that had been incredibly embarrassing; she visibly cringed as she remembered how tangled her hair had gotten that day. She'd probably looked like a drowned puffskein! Tilda reached out to put a hand on the hospital cart to steady herself. "I...believe that was me!" She said, flustered as she forced herself to meet his gaze. "And that would make you the unfortunate man who had to witness my bedraggled state, then Mr. Grimstone!"

Her other hand floated up to pat her own hair as if it had become soaked all over again. Merlin help her.