The singing made him nervous. He'd thrown her too hard to the ground, maybe, or the fire had gotten her somewhere under the acres of dress and hair. She wasn't coherent, she was -

The golden glow screws with what's left of his sight, but he knows it's not fire. It's too uniform and yellow to be flames. She's a meta? How many of them are here? Is this an attack? The singing is weak, but it doesn't sound malicious.

Warm light flows through the confusion of hair, finally spilling across his hands, and he almost pulls them away, anticipates pain and finds it merely tingling, but in a pleasant, soothing sort of way. The searing sensation that had been dissipates, and he removes a hand, holds it near to his good eye. The skin is smooth, no trace of the burn or the ugly cut that he'd gotten the other day. "How -"

Tim looks from his hand to the glowing hair. Cause and effect, two and two is four. "You healed me."

Hurriedly, he starts spreading it out over the rest of her body.