Joan took the shirt and the pickle jar, setting the latter on the ground and tearing the former into four inch wide strips.

"Yeah, the Cornucopia is not exactly the best time to meet people. The one time I went for it, I got my knee destroyed. Not fun to deal with that for the next month and a half."

She bunched up one of the strips, screwed the cap off of the pickle jar, and carefully poured some of the brine onto the cloth.

"Okay," she said as she set the jar down. "This is going to sting."

She started to clean the wound, as gentle as possible.