“Brave lad.” Astarion says teasingly— clearly settled by the sight of something so very superficial despite the welling redness washed stark across Ellis' skin.

“But I suppose it won’t do to have you meandering about like that in search of a meager patch-up.” Or slithering back to dig up a medical kit, making the mishap all the more obvious to anyone that might be watching.

“My home isn’t far. Come with me, and we’ll clean you up better than any dishrag or chips of ice could possibly manage.”

It's a diversion from patrolling, true, but a brief intermission won't damage much by Astarion's estimates.