Sanctuary raises the bowl to his nose and breathes deeply. “It smells nice, too,” he says, enthusiastically offering it up for Goma to take a whiff. She recoils, staring at him with a mistrustful scowl. Sanctuary’s smile breaks as he starts to realize he’s going to need to take a different tack with her. His expression softens into one of genuine concern as he turns back to his workbench. “...Look… Goma, I’ve seen wounds like that before,” he begins.