[Anders hums and nods, turning away briefly to go and rifle through the supplies he's got stashed over here. Over his shoulder he says,]

It's a clinic— or I'm trying to make it one. I'd love to haul a bed in here from one of the private chambers, but I'd probably get stabbed in an alcove before making it back.

[Hah. Anyway, he returns with a jar, full of something syrupy and something round and whitish. A peeled fruit? Probably. ...Hopefully. He pops the jar open and holds it out.]

These are either fruits or olives— either way, it's something quick. There's always a healing, if these don't help.