It was a testimony to the fact that Oliver indeed felt miserable that he drank without even taking a look at what it was that Alicia handed him. He took a large gulp and made a face in anticipation of the typically disgusting taste he associated with medicine.
"This has nae taste!" Oliver brightened considerably and took another tentative sip. Still no taste. He looked a Alicia, slightly insecure. "I'm supposed tae be able tae taste this, aren't I?" Bugger. He might as well write out his final will and testament. Oliver sighed very dramatically and pointed to the middle of his chest.
"Sternum." He said as he finished the drink. "It hurts right behin' th' sternum when I cough but thankfully it's a dry cough. Nae bits an' gross stuff comin' up, 'cause that would be bad." It occurred to him only then that he was explaining this to a Healer and Oliver shrugged. "You knew 'at, didn't ye? 'at gross stuff is...gross."
It was so hard to think today. It felt as if all his thoughts just refused to stay focused on the topic at hand. In fact, Oliver had forgotten what the topic at hand had been in the first place. "G'way, 'Licia." Oliver grumbled and turned away himself. "I'm bacteria central right now an' I don't want ye tae catch this an' get all gross like me an' I feel as if there's a chicken sittin' on my head."
Oliver was well on his way to enter the 'martyr-phase' of suffering.