While Kousenel spoke, Shodey fashioned the items she requested and he offered to fit her own ends. The bandages and wadding she made into a prosthetic, held in place with the tape. The garb became a mozzetta that could cover that obvious bit of fakery. She accomplished all this with one hand and strategic use of basic pressure from a truncated forearm as though she'd never had a left hand to begin with. Finally, once all else was in place, she hid the stump of what was once her wrist and the fraying trim of her left sleeve inside the hem of her right. Overall, she hoped, it was a sufficiently conservative pose that would engender no questions. Her new sartorial expression would simply have to fall inside the expectation that she should be somewhat unusual.
When the doctor was done explaining himself, she simply nodded. "We all do as we must." Whether or not she was convinced remained, as previous, purely internalized. Externally, she only projected the quietly regal bearing she had entered with. "As such, must I stay or leave?" This she put ever so little more emphasis on, mostly to play up the authority necessitated by her current character: queens rarely had to repeat their questions, but grace could be extended under exigent circumstances.
