If Stephen was checking Matthew for a fever, he was to be disappointed; rather, Matthew's forehead felt cold, damp, and clammy, underneath his hair, which had fallen into his face when he had fallen onto his face. Still, though, he brushed Stephen's hand away from his head, and struggled to sit up properly in the chair that Stephen's other hand had just helped to lift him to...!
"No, I'm fine, Stephen. I'm sure I didn't faint! Fainting is for..." Women, he was about to say, before he realised how utterly sexist a statement that was, and how DISAPPOINTED Di would be in him, if she heard such a remark from him, and so he stifled it. "I mean, I'm fine, really, Stephen! Don't fuss so... s'il te plait!"
He grimaced expressively as he at long last managed to sit up properly in the chair, and then forced a weak smile -- shaky, even -- for his friend. "Sorry, I just... don't want you making such a fuss over me...! I mean, I'm fine! Really, I'm fine...!"