Ellie shuts her eyes as the thread of the sutures pulls at her, breathing deeply. This is always the worst part, where she can feel the skin drawing together. It's the bit that turns her stomach, makes her want to dip her head. Instead she concentrates on her breathing, on Abby's low voice, and numbs it out again.

"Ah..." it was sharp. A deep breath in, and she answers.

"Wasn't professional. If he was he would've poisoned the knife," she mutters, then considers that she's already dosed on antivenoms, so it could be that it was poisoned, and it just wasn't able to take hold.

"Caught some dude skulking around the griffons. I got him from behind but I wasn't expecting his neck to be armored. Knocked me around some."

Ellie sounds bitter about it, like it's the equivalent of falling off her horse. Normal, expected to happen at times, but she's experienced enough to recognize the lapse in judgment for what it was.

"Didn't notice I was bleeding until I got back."