The man dwindles before you in his cerulean blue robes, hiding the cane like one would a murder weapon.

"Have it," he hisses and storms off.

When he is gone, the Faceless woman speaks up.

"I call myself Polus. That is me. I… thank you."

You fix her broken arm to a splint, and though you extend a hand, she does not know what to do with it.