"Yeah. Sure. Okay." Hey, as long as the cure wasn't worse than the affliction, he'd try anything at this point. Up to and including goat eyeball stew.

"What the hell is wrong with my wrist? Have people been putting cigarettes out on me?" Damn, he shouldn't have said that. Now he really wanted a smoke. The joke was said lightly, to help him avoid thinking about the vague memory of the branding iron and the pain so intense he'd passed out.