You look from the official, to Altria, to Gorn, and then back to the man in robes.
"I believe I would. One thing, though; is it possible to get a personal healer registered at this point?"
"Not at this stage, I am afraid," the man replies with an apologetic shake of his head.
You shrug. "I didn't think so, but best to be sure. Which way's the infirmary?"
One of the attendants provides directions, while another jogs over to the Announcer for a brief discussion.
"Alright, folks. I've just been informed that two of our semi-finalists have requested medical evaluations before the next round begins. As such, we'll be taking a fifteen minute break before beginning the next round." He glances at the ring, which looks rather the worse for wear after the bout between Morgiana and Gorn, and adds, "This will also give us the opportunity to repair the damage from the previous match. Once again, we thank you for your patience."
You depart the waiting area. Ayane, Cordelia, and Briar continue to follow you, and you spot Miss Drake heading in the same direction.
"You know," you tell your companions, "I don't expect to run into any giantspawn again."
"You didn't expect to run into them last time, either," Cordelia replies.
The infirmary is set up in the same room as it was during the preliminaries. Almost as soon as you enter, you're hustled towards one of the cots by a fellow who has that specific air of "medical professional" about him - impersonal, vaguely superior, and smelling faintly of chemicals. Almost nothing like the pediatrician you see back in Sunnydale, who is cheerful, absent-minded, and makes bad jokes about liking children, but never being able to eat a whole one. Ayane is taken in a different direction by a stern-faced woman who looks very traditionally Japanese, and Altria goes off in another with a cheerful, aged Englishman who has the longest beard and most riotous fashion sense you've ever seen on an adult. Even the Clown and the Hawaiian sorcerer weren't as colorful. Cordelia looks like she's been struck dumb by the combination of a neon pink t-shirt - splashed with the silhouette of a tropical landscape in electric green - radioactive orange Bermuda shorts - decorated with flowerprints in a shade of blue that never appears in Nature - and a broad-brimmed straw hat that would almost be acceptable, if it weren't that particular eye-piercing shade of incandescent yellow.
"Oh, hell," Briar groans, ducking behind you. "That's all we needed."
You roll a questioning eye in her direction, and she nods at the bearded fashion disaster, who has raised a knobbled stick even taller than he is - which doesn't go with anything he's wearing - and begun waving it about with total disregard for who or what he might hit with it, while he chatters away at Altria at a mile a minute. The blonde girl, for her part, seems both ashamed of and resigned to her companion's antics, making every effort to ignore his existence, except when she needs to duck.
"He's a wizard," your fairy companion grumbles. "I can smell it from here."