It's nice not to have to crane his neck and pull at his still-healing skin. It is ugly, though -- where cloth burned, metal searing hot over it. But it is no more than the survivors of dragon's breath have, if from a different source. Cereleum clings to the skin, melts it down, burns deep. It's only through magitek an a bit of conjury that Gaius lives, let alone is still capable of lifting his gunblade.

"Then I trust you'll do it right," is all he says, as he lets Estinien do as he should, and unfurling clean bandaging and preparing to wrap his arms.