He pulls up his newly acquired hand crossbow and loads a bolt into it. He takes aim, but realized something: a comrade was felled. Taking his aim again at the cultist that got his face cracked with a whip, he speaks to Clarice in a soothing voice befitting a scoundrel.
"You shan't be dying today, little lady. Rise and shine!"
Ahhhh, well... Max heal, crit miss. Can't win them all :p
Rolls
Healing Word - (1d4+3)
(4) + 3 = 7
H. Crossbow - (1d20+4, 1d6+2)
1d20+4 : (1) + 4 = 5
1d6+2 : (6) + 2 = 8