The scent hits her nose, and suddenly she can smell everything. The thick, cloying salve that feels like it's gathering at the back of her mouth, the sourness of the binding agent she just applied to the wounds, and the heavy smell of raw meat.
Very professionally, she sits back on her heels, wiping her hands on a length of bandage, swiveling away from her patient in a precise half-circle, and vomits.
He is at her side in an instant, slipping his hands around her shoulders to steady her so the wracking coughs don't knock her over.
His eyes soften and his voice whispers with a gentle tease. "Bothersome. It's not even morning."