That it will not, Mr. Anaxagoras. [ Unfortunately, Adrian is unfailingly polite and must wait until Anaxa falls into the saw trap of becoming friendly with him before he becomes the most annoying man he's ever met. He is mildly concerned, himself, with one man unconscious and the other bearing a constitution that is apparently not unlike his own. He supposes they can fight, if it must come to that.

He holds a hand above the patient's forehead, golden light gathering just beneath his palm. Fortunately, he doesn't need to focus too deeply to ensure that the patient is stabilized, so he can speak freely while he works. ]

Adrian Silverleaf. I am a healer, yes. I have... [ He pauses briefly. ] Gone through some recent changes. Anyone who touches my skin will fall violently ill. [ Tiredly, he adds: ] I am well aware of the irony. It is a bit disruptive to my work, I will admit, but not so much as I feared.

[ Is he just a bit defensive about this topic? Maybe so. But literally everyone told him not to do this to himself and he's still not inclined to feel sorry about it. ] What of yourself? I see that you're familiar with the body, but you don't strike me as a healer.

[ He'd only caught only a brief glance, considering everything else, but the way Anaxa had looked the patient over was — confident. ]