"Huh," he says with genuine albeit muted interest. "That's... that must be very useful."

There's a lot else he'd like to say - has it always been this way, or just the ins and outs of how it works, if it's anything like what John can do - but he's distracted by how awful he still feels. It's starting to become conspicuous that he's not getting better. If anything, he feels worse and worse, and he's just bloody sitting here, having water.

He braces himself a bit like he wants to stand up, but it's quickly apparent his body is not interested in allowing that. He hunches over, grunting in discomfort. There's the headache he's been getting more and more often, but it's more than that, he just feels... faint and weak and cold. Christ, is he trembling? He looks at his hand for a moment. It's hard to tell, but it's there, a little bit.

"I, erm..." He laughs weakly. "I don't suppose you 'just know' what's wrong with me?"