She's still shaking her head, trying to get the bitter taste off of her tongue; her face scrunches, in the process. She casts him an amused, if wry, look.
"Yes, well, I have to convince myself that I am actually sick, first," she says. "Before that can happen."
She watches as he works, fascinated by his process. She knows the basics of making potions for herself (lyrium and healing draughts are her particular specialties, given how often she relies on them for battle), but the way he prepares the medicine seems like the work of an expert to her. Of course, that could very well just be her fever talking.
She considers his questions for a moment before shrugging. "My throat is raw but I think that's from all the coughing," she admits. "But I am no healer. I suppose I can admit that now." She smiles sheepishly at him, tucking a stray strand of sweat-soaked hair away from her face.
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"Yes, well, I have to convince myself that I am actually sick, first," she says. "Before that can happen."
She watches as he works, fascinated by his process. She knows the basics of making potions for herself (lyrium and healing draughts are her particular specialties, given how often she relies on them for battle), but the way he prepares the medicine seems like the work of an expert to her. Of course, that could very well just be her fever talking.
She considers his questions for a moment before shrugging. "My throat is raw but I think that's from all the coughing," she admits. "But I am no healer. I suppose I can admit that now." She smiles sheepishly at him, tucking a stray strand of sweat-soaked hair away from her face.