It all happened so fast, and though he was trained to be quick on his feel, this was an entirely new situation. Before he could even tell if his spell had worked, the auror woman was on top of the suspect and the muggle woman had erupted into tears at the sight of her captor being taken into custody. Lachlan rolled his eyes and reminded himself to never get near a bottle of whatever she'd had.

He walked towards the auror and stood between her and the muggle woman, the latter who had devolved into tears and walked over to rest her tear-stained cheek on his shoulder. With knitted brows and an uncomfortable smirk, he looked down at the auror and shrugged.

From his new position he could see the extent of the damage—not sustained by the wizard, but by the auror. His eyes widened at the sight of the gash on her arm, and Lachlan shrugged the muggle woman off his arm and moved closer. He didn't have any bandages on him, but he had medical training (which he owed to years of hearing Tilda and their mother ramble about proper wound care).

"Let me help you with that," he insisted, his voice quiet with sincerity. He might not appreciate her attitude, but he didn't appreciate unnecessary suffering, either.

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