"Yes it's painful!" the teenager snapped, looking at the healer as though he was some sort of idiot. Registering just how rude that had been, and how very unintelligent it was to insult the man who had both the power and resources to take the pain away, Cesca ducked her head and murmured something that wasn't an apology but would almost certainly be presumed to be one.
"I'm alright, I suppose, but it does hurt," the Hufflepuff clarified, cursing that fact that she didn't know how burns were healed. Would it be a short process, or a long one? Would Cesca be requiring potions, spells, perhaps both? Despite the large amount of time the girl spent around fire, she'd never gotten seriously burned before. Sure, she'd had her fair share of minor first degree mishaps, but never anything that had needed medical attention or taken more than a few days to fully heal. This, on the other hand, would certainly have taken more than a few days to heal without magical intervention. Cesca could practically feel the blisters starting to form.
Heading over to one of the Hospital Wing cots the man had gestured towards, the blonde pushed herself onto it with effortless grace that one could only achieve from years of conditioning. Really, the witch had no idea what her brother was always talking about, she was very cooperative!
Cesca had figured that the trained wizard would likely be able to figure out what had happened just by examining her arm, but the question unnerved her all the same. Making a mental note to stop underestimating people so often, the blonde prepared to do what she did best.
Slouching her shoulders slightly, the witch curled in upon herself, causing her normally petite form to appear even smaller than it usually did. The Hufflepuff looked a year, perhaps even two, younger than her fourteen and was often underestimated for it. Cesca had spent years detesting her appearance, before realizing how to use it to her advantage. After all, there was so much more one could get away with when always overlooked or considered an innocent.
Looking up at Cael through big blue eyes, the girl chewed on the inside of her lip. "It was an accident," Cesca admitted softly, eyes watering ever so slightly. Ducking her head for a moment, as though shy and trying to build up the courage to speak, the teenager flared her nostrils in the same way that she did when trying not to tear up. "You're going to fix it, aren't you?" the Hufflepuff asked meekly, turning her head back towards the wizard's, "And make sure it doesn't scar? Mummy'd get mad, she always says that scars aren't becoming on girls."
Cesca had learned as a very young child, that the best lies and stories and covers were always based, at least partially, on the truth. In the little act she'd just put on, all of the nervousness and almost-crying and hesitation had been a front. The comment about her mother? Not so much. So if that last sentence had come out a little more bitter that the girl had intended? Well, she'd be the only one to know about the little flaw in her acting skills.