Once he has the CiD, Benevenuta does several things things: pocket the gold, because questioning it when people pay her for something is unwise on several levels, take away the over-sheet that he'd bled on and steer him back down onto the bed itself.

"You can, but I'm keeping you here overnight to make sure you're not going to collapse when you leave in the morning," she says, with the kind of placid certainty that speaks to a confidence she can make him take care of himself if she's obliged to do so. It isn't threatening or forceful, just-- very sure. "If someone needs to come and check on you, we're in Syriac Well."

She supplies the address, absently. "And I need to wash up. Excuse me."