It was good that Mr. Browne was telling him about the purple ooze, because Walt would almost certainly have been alarmed (though he doubted very much he would have been at all inclined to eat it). His heart picked up a bit at the mention of a fortnight, because he was momentarily concerned it would interfere with his upcoming honeymoon, but of course that was silly. A fortnight was a matter of weeks, while his wedding was still two months away. He'd just been waiting for it so long that it felt as though it ought to be imminent — but, being an older gentleman and a widower, approaching a marriage was different this time around. He'd been anticipating the wedding more or less from the day he asked to court Gertrude; he would not have begun the process had he not been sure about her.

"Alright," he said, when he was sure he understood the directions. "Thank you, Mr. Browne," he said, extending his hand to shake the healer's — now that he had a hand reattached and ready to shake.