[Myr digs his hands into his own hair with deepening frustration as Caster leans back. Bastards, indeed; he isn't used to forgetting things any longer, and they could've done anything to him in there. (The lurking feeling of horror and violation at something that had happened says they might very well have done anything and he's forgotten all of it...)]

Don't know how much more resting I can do, [though he clearly needs it, he's disturbed enough now by the attention called to the hole in his memory he's going to be worrying at it like a missing tooth.] But--ah, [he takes the bag of herbs,] I'll give it a try. I'm sure the old man here isn't going to let me out of his sight until I'm all better.

[It's very fondly said, and Everett's direction gets another of those melting-sweet smiles.] --I can tell you now I do want to know, though. So the sooner we can go meet your diviner... [The better.

He needs to know what happened in there.]