Saturday drinks it down. It doesn't do much. Some soothing coolness while she's drinking; that's it. She shakes her head and stops trying to hold it, so that Guts can put it aside.

The weakness in her limbs makes her gut clench. She's been fucked up before, but never - Maggie was always there, healing spell at the ready, there was never any damage that time wouldn't heal. Saturday doesn't remember a lot but she remembers her wrists being torn apart, it felt like; when she feels, under the bandages, there's some kind of splint, or thick stitching. And they hurt, hurt so much that she's not sure she'll be able to raise them again for - a while.

If she can't raise her arms, how can she hold a sword?

Then she makes a gesture as if typing on her tablet, looking around for the thing itself.