[Ludovico]

( XD; I write to many stories for my friends. They end up having way to many characters. @>@)

The old man begrudgingly walked up to Zosa and took his wounded arm. Oliver could see that time was of the essence but getting the drunken healer to realize this was out of Olivers league. He merely shooed the boy away and pushed away the pile of cloth that Oliver supplied. His eyes widened a little at the wound. He dug around in his belongings and in no time flat he had produced a needle and thread, along with some magic balm. Oliver averted his eyes while the man did his work, finding his instrument to be much more interesting. There was a faint glow that caught his attention but only briefly. As for payment he would have settle that with Zosa, so long as he didn't want Olivers first born child, or something outrageous that fairy tale characters usually wanted.