"Morphine?" She doesn't recognize the word but she assumes it's something that would help with being injured. Perhaps a medicine or a suture skill. It probably doesn't inspire much faith in her, however, so she smiles again.

"I have been fortunate to never break a bone, at least." Scrapes. Stab wounds. "I was shot twice," She offers as though she can commiserate with him. She pauses a moment, tongue running along her lower lip and she nods.

She will try this. But ground rules. "Hold still. Please do not startle me or I may lose control of the verse. I imagine it will hurt but not overly much. Stop me if it does."

She takes a breath, feels to call a verse. "I called on the Lord in distress; The Lord answered me and set me in a broad place. The Lord is on my side." Words started to appear, French and Latin, glowing and appearing burned on her skin, save that they flowed over her. They moved from chest to shoulders to face, back down to her hands.

"I will not fear. What can man do to me? The Lord is for me among those who help me; Therefore I shall see my desire on those who hate me." The words move onto Howard's hand, up his arm, sinking into his skin and knitting bone and flesh back together.