He props himself up on one elbow, which still seems to take herculean effort. The tension and anxiety of the headache, which is still persisting at a dull roar, has sapped the energy out of each of his muscles like a root sucks from earth. He's trembling slightly, arm quaking beneath him.

"Thank you." He takes a few small mouthfuls of water, wincing with each swallow, flinching at the sound the tin makes as he pops it open. "Don't have Eta make me anything tonight."

He holds the mint in his mouth like he's forgotten how it is that people chew, then finally crunches it between his teeth. Then he slumps back into the bed.

"You didn't have to take time off work for me."