Thank the gods, Hera gets it. He readies himself to set the bone, silently counting down on his fingers where Hera can see but the refugee cannot - three, two, one-

"I think I'd share it," the refugee answers, focusing on Hera now that she's asking questions. "They're made to be-" The word cuts off into a shriek, the refugee clutching Hera's hand in a death grip as Ryo snaps the broken bone back into place. "It's okay," he murmurs gently, starting the process of applying the splint. "You'll be okay." This is never fun, but at least it's more straightforward than some other fixes.