Greg's more inclined to notice what damage is there than what conspicuously isn't. He recognizes the iron burns, and for a fleeting moment wonders who might have attacked him. The memory of the iron rolling across the floor resurfaces, and Greg lets out a small, shuddering sigh. Steven's been fighting so hard, all alone... if he'd been a little later finding him...

But he did, and he can take care of it now. Greg rummages through his pockets, until after a little bit of clattering he pulls out one of the rune stones he'd brought with him to Nightshade's realm. He'd used most of them up after their escape to try and dispel any potential magic from those spores, but Sans had flown off too fast for him to hand the last one off. Instead, he tucks the smooth stone into Steven's hand, where it can unravel some of the magic slowing him down.

"Here, hold on to that. It'll help. Just rest a little bit, and I'll take care of you. I promise."

He can't get to most of his magical supplies right now, but he can still do a few things as an ordinary human. No--as a father. That's what he is, right now. It's terrifying, leaving Steven alone even for a few brief minutes, but necessary. First to rent out a room without the clerk questioning the battered child with him, then to rush to the corner store and collect some supplies.

Greg returns to the room still jittery and anxious, a couple bags of bandages, disinfectant, and food in hand. The old little coffee maker in the room is quickly set to work heating up instant noodles and canned soup while Greg settles down on the bed next to his son.

"How're you feeling? Any better? Here, let me see those hands." He hesitates before touching Steven. Even those sparse few minutes away pulled out his fears again, expecting some sort of fear or backlash. Maybe the reaction was delayed. Maybe Steven would remember how upset he was after the adrenaline wore off. Maybe, maybe, maybe.