Ah, knights. At least they seem more or less the same across the ages.

That thought makes him smile a little, even as he sees the blood and reaches around for his pouch. "Hold still a moment," he says, pulling out a small glass bottle and uncorking it. He dabs a bit of the tincture on his fingers, reaching up- he's quite tall himself, so he doesn't have to stand on tip-toes or anything- rubbing it on the wound. There's a twinge at first, but it fades quickly as he rubs it gingerly around the small wound, waiting until he's managed to stop up the bleeding before withdrawing. "There. You should still rest a moment, but you'll be fine."

He offers Maine some water- he's not sure why people use this... crinkly glass material (plastic) rather than a flask, but needs must.