Brady: ......
Yarne: Something wrong, Brady?
Brady: Yeah, I took a jab from a spear in the last battle. Hurts like the dickens. Don't suppose you've got some secret taguel wonder medicine, eh?
Yarne: I do, actually. Well, it's not taguel, but it's good stuff regardless.
Brady: And it really works? You ain't yankin' ol' Brady's chain here, yeah?
Yarne: It works like a charm, though it smells like rotten socks. Then again, it's a secret recipe—so rotten socks may actually be an ingredient!
Brady: I'll chug soiled undies if it makes this pain go away. Thanks, rabbit! *Glug, glug, glug*
Yarne: Well? How's it feel?
Brady: ...Sweet thunder! I can see the wound sewin' shut before my very eyes!
Yarne: Well, if you ever need more, come see me. Nobody's better stocked on medicine than a hypochondriac. Oh, and be sure to get plenty of rest too. Maybe take it easy today?
Brady: No can do. We got training exercises after this, remember?
Yarne: Training or no, I'm not a fan of any activity where people swing sharp things at me. That's how accidents happen! Horrible, face-peeling accidents... And the fact that it's mostly safe also means it's slightly deadly! As the last of the taguel, I can't afford to risk it.
Brady: If you go into battle without training at all, it'll be a lot more than slightly deadly! Now, c'mon! Stop flappin' yer gums and start movin' yer legs!
Yarne: H-hey, wait! I told you, I'm not... HEY! Let go! Unhand me, brute!