"I do try to be," Luvander murmurs, and the implied modesty does seem just a tad exaggerated. But it's mostly in a way which suggests that he is always playing it up to an audience, even in situations like this, as if taking anything seriously somehow bothers him. There is at least a sympathetic nod at the mention of the children, among which Luvander has long since ceased to count himself in any case, although his assessment isn't always correct. But at the very least, he is used to handling himself in battle.

Having been given the permission he sought for, he once more brushes his fingers against the wounded man's skin, concentrating. There is a moment of balance tilting between them, of the universe shifting just a tiny bit, and then Luvander hisses in pain despite himself. It is a rather shallow cut, he can feel that, but it's never pleasant to have your skin split as if it's made of wet paper, blood rushing forward as if eager to get out before the healing factor takes over and once more starts to close it. At any rate, Luvander halts, swaying slightly. Adams would have given him an earful about not healing a bleeding wound while sitting down by now. "Ah, if you would give me a moment, I'll have this sorted soon."