[The strike is swift and forceful, as he'd have expected of someone with the martial arts skills he'd seen from her. He keeps his arm outstretched, neither flinching nor wincing as the blow lands, and only moving a little with the force of the blow -- since, after all, failing to move away means more force going towards bruising it.

It feels as though it's going to bruise. He sets down the salve jar and unbuttons his cuff, rolling it up to consider the skin. Clearly reddened, already starting to swell; he casts a judgmental eye over it and offers her a little nod.]

No, I think this will do nicely.

[He leans back against the counter waiting, and adds, curiously, as he waits for the bruise to develop:]

I haven't had the chance to look at the garden yet. You said there were herbs growing out there?