He chuckled. "Don't worry if you don't like them. I'll try to find something better to eat when I head down to see Jean Claude."

He went to the closet, pulling out a blanket and handing it to her. "Here. You can sit here or have the bed. I have some calls to make so I'll step out for awhile. Just try to rest: I won't let anyone bother you."

He gave her a comforting grin and reminded, "There's bottled water in that fridge, too, if you really don't like the Gatorade. Just try to drink a little of it, ok? I promise it helps." He made for the door, stopping again at his closet for something before slipping out the door and closing it gently behind him. He carefully wrapped a snagged sock on the door knob; no one would be bothering her.