He was terrified. Anxiety, he knew, and he had read a bit on its effects, its causes, its treatments- but this was not so serious. Pip was only nervous, and he attempted to reassure himself, reasoning that it would be all right if someone else was chosen instead, and that he could still work on improving for the next time, whenever that would be. A mistake was not the end of the world, now was it? Everyone made mistakes, and yet, Pip recognized that mistakes in the medical field had a greater potential for dangerous results, possibly even death. He knew that. Pip wasn't attempting this ignorantly, believing it would be all roses and sunshine, bending over small scrapes and giving remedies for colds. Especially not here, where people lived rougher lives. He could be soaked in blood attempting to stem an open wound, or- or pumping fluid out of someone's lung. He didn't know how to do that last part.

Inhaling a bit shakily, Pip straightened his small display he would use for the instruction. He had a neat pile of plantain leaves of various sizes, cloth, boiled cloth, and mesh he had made from plantains, though he wasn't too satisfied with it. At least it was better than the first time he made it, because that was a disaster.

Resisting the temptation to fidget, Pip tentatively cleared his throat. "Uh, if you have some free time, I will be holding a bandage instruction. I'd like a few volunteers." He forcibly kept his shoulders from hunching. "No one will be harmed, of course, that would be- counterproductive."
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He's heard of the dangers of self-diagnosis. It's so easy to become overwhelmed and engulfed in a sea of knowledge, analysing and analysing until everything had been overdone. Ironically, he knew of a mental illness known as factitious disorder. He thought it to be a strange illness because of its nature. In faking a disorder by consciously forming its symptoms for sympathy or attention, the pretender would still be diagnosed as genuinely ill. There were even levels of danger to it and he remembered reading about the illness with a scoff afterwards, wondering why and how the world went wrong. It seemed that everything could be branded an illness. To act out of place meant you were supposedly an outsider. Then again, that was how Bakugou viewed the world of psychology. He thought it to be stupid. All he's ever known was what went on inside his head, no one else's. Whose place was it to say that the other wasn't normal when the only world they had known was what their two eyes let them see, what their brain told them they had heard and felt?

His eyes move gently over Peppino's form, hearing the boy meekly speak up. He looked nervous and outside his usual element, different to what he had seen when the child was reading about arthritis and he suggested him to do the sage tryouts. He also had a feeling that the boy knew of them as well. After all, that pipsqueak was the son of the Captain himself. The ragdoll approaches with an air of nonchalance, sitting down to watch the medical lesson the other planned on holding. He would perhaps volunteer to help out considering he kind of liked this kid for being intelligent but he saw that someone else had already taken the job. He doubts many will come to a simple medical lesson so he holds back his tongue for now, sideways glancing to notice Junji had arrived to watch from the sidelines. The angel always seemed so busy after Sil had left. He would have felt sorry for the soothsayer had he not had ties to Luca.

Pip shuffled his paws a bit more, glancing over his stock yet again, and he idly chewed on his lower lip. Should he have gone for something more complicated? Or less common? He wasn't certain if people would be interested in attending a little seminar over bug bites, and bandages, though relatively simple, were important. He'd read -and looked at pictures- of what could happen when open wounds weren't treated properly. Sepsis and necrosis came to mind. Beyond that, he had considered perhaps a mental health lesson, but he didn't think many would appreciate taking advice from a child, or that they would be keen on the subject anyway. It seemed more private than physical medicine, which Pip thought was a shame. Maybe he could work on that later, when he was older and had more experience.

For the time being, he had a bandages course to oversee, and when he saw Garrett was the first to approach, Peppino's curled tail gave a few wags. "Garrett! It's-" He paused as the other boy presented his scratch, a small furrow forming between mismatched eyes, which wrinkled with concern. "Oh, you should have said something earlier. Even small scratches can get worse. Here, sit." Peppino took two leaves, one of the longer ones with a small incision at an end and one smaller plantain leaf. Pip inspected the cut a bit more, glad to notice there was no debris inside, though he still turned to rummage through the nearby bag for a small jar. "This is saline. It's boiled water and salt that cleans wounds." He tipped it into a smaller cup, which he ran over Garrett's wound.

Pip chewed the shorter leaf, dropped the mushed result into his paw, and dabbed it on the cut. "Plantain is anti...anti-inflammatory. So you can chew it up and put it on scrapes, cuts, and stings." In his concentration, he hadn't even noticed the arrival of Junji or Bakugou. "And you can use it for a bandage." Pip wrapped the leaf around his leg, tucking the tip through the small incision, a bit similar to a belt. He pulled it to a tightness that wouldn't suffocate the wound, but wouldn't result in a dislodging, either. "There. You should change it out every day and a half or so."
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There was the struggle with competition with no clear right or wrong. In many ways, one would want to impress judges by using complicated and less known methods of achieving success. But at the same time, it gave room for many errors. Then there was being simple and safe. It was hard to mess up but difficult to be memorable. Considering how intelligent Peppino was, he assumed there had to be a reason as to why the boy chose to do such a simple lesson. But perhaps it was a wise decision when he quietly listens to the pipsqueak work his magic, going through his items to follow the usual protocols when approaching an injury. He blinks, words flying past his head because they were long and unfamiliar to him, flicking an ear at Peppino's description of saline being boiled water and salt to clean wounds. He was already intrigued why how much knowledge the child already possessed, making the simple task of bandaging sound so complicated and intricate. It, again, made him feel behind and stupid. It felt so natural to see the kid at work that he was reminded of his own incapabilities.

As he silently watched, his eyes continue to glance at Junji, wondering what sorts of opinions and thoughts were swimming within the angel's mind. He thought the child to be impressive but, of course, he was no expert when it came to medicine. He would leave it to the opinion of the black mambas - the only black mamba they had left.