At first, Marius only watched in confusion as Joly talked and prepared the water and medicine, his companion's intentions not quite clear to him with his current slowness of mind. Once he had been offered the pills, however, a mild embarrassment tided over him. He vigorously shook his head—the movement caused him to become dizzy—and gave Joly's hand a gentle, trembling push away.

"Keep them; I am not fevered, I do not think." Just very easily flustered.

But he did shift his position, lying on one side so that his head was close to Joly and his legs pointed away. He pressed his back against the wall and rested his head against an arm, bending his knees a little to get himself as comfortable as possible.

Even sprawled against the cold, museum floor, his body was fighting hard for rest. Managing a question to leave his lips had thus become exceedingly difficult, and he slurred when he asked, "What do you wish to know about our wedding?"

Perhaps if he kept talking, he would not have to succumb to sleep and nightmares.