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Alistair slowly unclips the staff from his back. It's currently wrapped up with cloth, in order to hide it- lest the media-savvy recognise it from all the TV coverage of his sister- but it still works just as well when unwrapped.

He slowly points it at the woman.
"I'll....do my best."
The young man closes his eyes, focusing on summoning up his magic, focusing the mana through his hands and into the staff. As he does so, he feels another, colder influence on the flow of magic, in addition to the warm, guiding hand that he knew to be the spirit of Anima, the ancient summoner who had once occupied his sister.

Carbuncle, the Specter he'd managed to convince to help him. Alistair can almost see it, floating in front of him, focused in sync with the wizard.
>Allow me to assist you, master.<

The woman is covered with a translucent, ruby-like shell as Alistair and Carbuncle attempt to heal her with his magic.

"....can I try? I know a bit of healing magic."

Alistair runs over.
"Is there a problem here?"

Alistair decides to go for a stroll. Woo.

"I hadn't intended on anything but a check-up. Do you believe that there may be a confrontation?"

we're all dead

Alistair looks over at the girl who just spoke to him.
"Ah. Alright, fair enough. Never really trained for boxing, if I'm honest."

Alistair seems relieved. He slackens.
"A'ight."
He delivers the strongest punch he can. He wasn't a boxer, he was a rugby player; all of his strength was in his legs and torso. Nonetheless, it's not as if he gives a bad account of himself.