Taking the knife, Herbert smiles down at it with some genuine excitement of his own, and then his ears tilt back slightly and his eyes widen briefly as he remembers to be. Personable.

"Ah... Thank you," he manages, nodding, before climbing three-legged back onto Ignatius and opening his pocket back up for the forceps. The knife, he assumes, will only be heated for so long, so as much as he'd like to pointedly tie some fabric around his face as a makeshift surgical mask, he doesn't really feel he has the time for unnecessary actions solely for the purpose of aggressing Strange.

He has to get down on his belly for this surgery, which is odd, and most assuredly not his preference, but beggars can't be choosers. Makeshift scalpel in one hand and forceps in the other, he starts in on cutting out the most visibly iron-damaged flesh(?) and attempting to cauterise where the worst of the obsidian is oozing from with the red hot flat of the blade.

He'll be completely absorbed in that for a little bit unless anything particularly exciting happens.