09.Apr.12, 05:13 PM
Her little reprimand was cute. That was the best word he had for it, anyhow. He wasn't completely sure what motivated Breccan, but she seemed to fall into a category he was all too familiar with: women who thought being a coy bitch made them clever. He tolerated it though, smiling good-naturedly as if dismissing his own words (and hers) as a joke. "Of course you haven't."
And he didn't know for a fact that she was having such thoughts about him. He just tended to assume everyone did. Of course, Tyrrisath's observations weren't without merit. The girl's ominous first words aside, S'kef knew she had plenty of reason to take issue with him. Plenty more reasons not to throw her life away, though. He let it go, though he would do as his dragon recommended and keep an eye on her. He was pretty confident Breccan valued her own hide too much to try anything stupid.
"I figured it the flu myself," he said, adjusting his position slightly and letting out the softest grunt of discomfort. He wasn't beyond displaying discomfort to others, but he preferred to remain stoic. He was in an awful lot of pain, though. "At first, anyhow."
"When I first came in, I mentioned these scratches I have on my leg to the apprentice that saw me," he commented. He nodded towards his left leg. He'd torn his calf on some thorns while retrieving the first errant healer girl. "I was snagged one some thorns in the jungle, but I had them cleaned up that evening. They got a little red and puffy, but I've had far worse," he said, trying to recall the specifics of the event. He wondered bitterly if the apprentice had even written about the scratches in his file. Not that it seemed important at the time. He'd thought nothing of it himself, but Breccan had a point - absolutely anything could be important.
He exhaled a bit. "I'll pass on the fellis," he remarked. "I prefer to stay alert." That habit had served him well over the years. "Otherwise, go for whatever you think will work. I'm no healer, so you know better than I do."
He closed his eyes again, no longer able to fend away the pounding headache lurking just behind his eyes. He groaned a little bit and adjusted himself again, increasingly aggravated by the wet spot on the bed. Wait, wet spot? Had he really been sweating that much?
The brownrider turned his head to one side and grimaced in disgust. He was going to melt at this rate. His clothes were damp and he was feeling...dry. Dehydrated?
"I would like some water, though," he said lowly, not exactly a demand, but the sort of firm suggestion he was used to issuing - though perhaps lacking a little bit of it's normal bite.
And he didn't know for a fact that she was having such thoughts about him. He just tended to assume everyone did. Of course, Tyrrisath's observations weren't without merit. The girl's ominous first words aside, S'kef knew she had plenty of reason to take issue with him. Plenty more reasons not to throw her life away, though. He let it go, though he would do as his dragon recommended and keep an eye on her. He was pretty confident Breccan valued her own hide too much to try anything stupid.
"I figured it the flu myself," he said, adjusting his position slightly and letting out the softest grunt of discomfort. He wasn't beyond displaying discomfort to others, but he preferred to remain stoic. He was in an awful lot of pain, though. "At first, anyhow."
"When I first came in, I mentioned these scratches I have on my leg to the apprentice that saw me," he commented. He nodded towards his left leg. He'd torn his calf on some thorns while retrieving the first errant healer girl. "I was snagged one some thorns in the jungle, but I had them cleaned up that evening. They got a little red and puffy, but I've had far worse," he said, trying to recall the specifics of the event. He wondered bitterly if the apprentice had even written about the scratches in his file. Not that it seemed important at the time. He'd thought nothing of it himself, but Breccan had a point - absolutely anything could be important.
He exhaled a bit. "I'll pass on the fellis," he remarked. "I prefer to stay alert." That habit had served him well over the years. "Otherwise, go for whatever you think will work. I'm no healer, so you know better than I do."
He closed his eyes again, no longer able to fend away the pounding headache lurking just behind his eyes. He groaned a little bit and adjusted himself again, increasingly aggravated by the wet spot on the bed. Wait, wet spot? Had he really been sweating that much?
The brownrider turned his head to one side and grimaced in disgust. He was going to melt at this rate. His clothes were damp and he was feeling...dry. Dehydrated?
"I would like some water, though," he said lowly, not exactly a demand, but the sort of firm suggestion he was used to issuing - though perhaps lacking a little bit of it's normal bite.