Corrie had spent the time being plied with pillows and glasses of water, and talking to Min and the fish Min kept swimming by her. She'd designed a new fish, the Jesseshark, after a friend in Canada - purple, with orange stripes along its body and green freckles on its face. Her intentionally uncomfortable seat had turned into a long, low sofa, which she grudgingly admitted was much nicer to rest in, and Min dropped a blanket neatly over her. The lights were dim when Lorcan returned, and Corrie was as comfortable as she could be in her situation. If it wasn't for her rib, she would have dropped off by now, and as it was she had kept blinking drowsily up at the ceiling (which, like the rest of the room, was now completely empty of the hooks and handholds she'd had up earlier in the evening), head leaned against the wall and fish attempting to nibble at her hair.
The lights brightened as they entered, and she raised her bandaged hand (still holding the wand) like a good bedridden girl instead of twisting her torso toward them, "Merlin, that smells good. Can I eat with a broken rib?" She'd had dinner, but so much had happened since then that she was starting to get hungry again.