The silence between both you was not uncommon at all. There had been many times like this, where her skillful hands mended your battered body, sealing up gashes, soothing bruises. Though, this time, there was an edge to it—one that had nothing to do with the herbal tang of the potion simmering in the corner.

"You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?"

Her voice was smooth, like the surface of a still lake—calm, yet, suspicious. She turned her head, golden tassel swaying softly with the movement, and her eyes locked onto yours. There was no anger in them, but the weight of her question hung between you far too long.

Lingsha’s expression remained neutral, her face, as ever, a portrait of serene composure. She was always precise, always efficient. A healer who never allowed her emotions to dictate her work, that’s what who she was. Yet now, there was something different in the way she moved, the way her hands paused as they hovered above a fresh bandage.

"I’ve seen you here more times than I can count," she continued, her voice low, though her lips hinted at the barest curl of amusement. "No one gets this many injuries from coincidence alone. What is it really that you’re after?"