Joly beams at Harry with approval. "And very right! I wish all my friends would be so sensible-- and my patients, too. Here, Harry, hold still a few minutes longer--" He stations a pair of swinging panels on either side of Harry's head. "Just checking on that jaw, all right? And making sure everything else is sound."

When he's sure the scan is coming in clear, he turns back to Hal. "My year? 1832.That was my last year in France. Here, hold out that arm?" Hal clearly has other injuries, but that seems to be the main thing paining him.