Macnair's response was so rushed and vehement that it startled Ford. He managed not to drop the vial but couldn't help shooting a confused glance up at Macnair's face, which he'd been very intentionally not looking at since his confession earlier. Ford flushed and hurriedly shifted his gaze back towards the bag, dropping the vial into it and searching for the one Macnair had described.

Did healers normally walk around with all these sorts of things in their pockets? And why had Macnair been so touchy about the last one? Not that it was any of Ford's business, really, but given the circumstances he couldn't help but wonder.

"Here," he announced, pulling the green vial from inside. For a split second he reflected on the similarity of this situation to another one he'd been in that spring, sent to locate things he wasn't familiar with armed with only a vague description. Of course, this was nothing like being in a storeroom with Billy Darrow, because Macnair wasn't holding him hostage and the thing Ford was looking for wasn't going to be used against him once he found it. Except Macnair had followed him when Ford had been quite desperately trying to run away, and he'd given no indication he intended to let him leave once his arm was healed. Maybe this had a little more in common than he would have thought at first glance. Maybe handing over this dittany was going to doom him, leaving him vulnerable in ways he didn't want to be.

Not that it made any difference, really. Ford still held the bottle of dittany out; there was never any question of his leaving.

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