He ignores the missed stitch, a lapse in his grip, though his eyes do seem to glaze over with focus despite him answering Inigo relatively quickly. He bounces back from it and continues the last suture, hoping this was to end sooner than later.

"I may have seen him around, but I can't put a face to the name yet. Even with the mask, heh. Is that right, from your world back home...?" At last, at long last, the fourth suture is finished and the snip that accompanies it comes with a wash of silent relief as Roland sits back up one last time, straightening himself on the chair and setting down the tools next to him. His breath is heavy, full of coiled tension, but he is still calm, knowing the work was over.

He washes his hands again with a spray of the disinfectant, before going in for one last cleaning, the solution on the cotton brown in tint, staining the skin around the cut that has now stopped bleeding and is closed together by four, rather amateur looking stitches. But it works.

"Did you two come together on the platform? What's he like, then? Tell me about him." Roland glances up to meet Inigo's eye from time to time, now an easier task after the worst of the pain.