He slipped back into the room, closing the door behind him. He was perhaps a little pale and wobbly, but he looked completely unharmed. He blinked in surprise at the tidied room. "You don't know how to rest, do you?" he chuckled, a touch of pleasant weariness and teasing in his tone.

He made for the fridge, pulling out a Gatorade and taking slow, measured sips. "I'll order some food in a bit, unless you really need to eat now?" His voice still had a faint dreamlike quality, but more like someone waking from a pleasant dream than the slurring of someone who was ill. Still, he hoped she could hold off a little bit before he had to think about food. He could order food, have a shower, and be feeling up to a meal by the time it was delivered...