Anduin's gentle features furrow in concern, grey-blue eyes narrowed in concentration. It doesn't look good, of course, but it could be far worse. War has hardened Anduin to this kind of thing, to the sight of soldiers with mortal injuries that they might never recover from.

"It's quite swollen," he offers, thoughtful. "How long ago did this happen?"

Long enough ago for the bruise to develop, of course. For it to settle in to that deep ache. He flits his eyes up and around, focusing more on John's general expression, and the frown melts away into a kind smile.

"I may be able to take the edge off, but I'm afraid I cannot heal it fully right now. I'm still too weak, though I am told that should fade."