A plain, white shirt was taken from Kerr's pack -- his only spare, as it turned out, though he wouldn't complain -- and he began to tear it into strips. Once everything was ready, he heated his needle in the fire with a curious glance towards the Grand Duke. "That is, assuming you don't mind, your grace. I've gotten pretty good at patching myself up. Mercenary units aren't usually lucky enough to have a surgeon attached to their outfit." Particularly not in his brand of work...
"Oh, that reminds me." From his pack, he drew out some tea. Sprinkling it into the water heating in the cup, he offered it to Calent. "Some tea. It will dull the pain without knocking you on your ass. And it probably won't hurt your cold, either."