"So long as it's not literally a pitchfork and torches mob I am more than happy to ignore any fussy sorts. Not like I'm about to go trying to rouse their ire, that's absolutely not my scene." But the mention of friends about does earn a grin from him, something pleased in the expression.

"Don't tell her it was you, and make sure I have a good sherry on hand to tempt her with, that I can certainly do. Worst comes to worst I can always ply her with ridiculous tales of my own." Not all of them true, but then stories were about being entertaining in that case rather than being wholly honest. And between making someone laugh or being honest, Molly would hands down choose laughter.

The tiefling plucks a scarlet kerchief that looks to be some manner of linen from some random pocket to daub away some of the blood from his own skin and hands, humming a low note of understanding. "Well there's your problem my friend!" God or no, Molly had no trouble with just continuing as they'd been with his typical charm. "Comparing yourself to who I can only assume is the pinnacle is just a formula for setting yourself up for disappointment. Don't sell yourself so short, you're quite skilled and I speak from unfortunately copious experience of the ministrations of many sundry healers."