She works quickly, efficiently, like someone used to only having a short window where her patients don't squirm or thrash about. (She also doesn't roll her eyes at his muttering, much as she may like to. She's a professional, after all.)

The pain lessens in short order as Cullen's ribs knit back into place, as the bruise lightens like ink fading in sunlight. The deepest cuts seal first, then the shallower ones. Even the muscles that only ache from fatigue start to hurt less.

"There." The glow vanishes from her hands as she releases her grip on the Fade. "You'll be stiff for a few days, but you should be able to do everything you need. Like go to bed. Or move."

(The last is a touch dry.)