If you wish. [She's not going to bother to ask why he doesn't want anesthetic, and she's going to charitably guess that he's too unused to magic to be comfortable with having it used on him.] Let me know if you change your mind.

[She could make a remark about how his cigar probably wouldn't stand up to the strain of needing to bite down on the pain, but she doesn't. Now that she's finally won him over, she's not going to spend any more energy on advice or arguing--she's fully in healer mode now. Gloves on, dish under the leg to catch any drips. Gently unwrapping the bandage, she examines the bite marks, cleaning them out gently with saline to wash away any matter or unwanted germs, glancing up frequently to monitor his expression and body language. Then she applies antibiotic ointment to the tooth marks.]

I'm going to stick the deeper punctures shut with these, rather than stitches, in case there's any infection I missed.

[She applies a few adhesive skin closure strips where needed; it'll be easier to get them off if things get into ubi pus, ibi evacua territory.

Once that's done, she puts fresh bandages over the wound.]

There. How does that feel?