Adrian groaned when she started talking about cutting open her ankle, leaning forward so that his head was between his knees. "Shut up, shut up, shut up," he muttered, wondering vaugely if this day could possibly get any worse. Her hand in his acted as the one grounding point he had and he was greatful for it.
When the healer handed him the potion, he took it but just held it tightly in his hand. He couldn't take it until his urge to vomit had settled. The consistancy of the potion would make him gag if he took it before then. When she asked once more why he didn't like hospitals, he slowly straightened, his eyes taking in the sight of her tangled hair and sleepy eyes. "They smell like death," he responded, sitting up a bit more. When he felt he could handle it, he removed the stopper and took the potion. The taste left something to be desired, but he'd been expecting that.
So his response wasn't entirely logical. What did death smell like? It certainly didn't smell like rotting corpses, so that was crossed off the list. What else was death except for the breaking down of biological tissues? He could be glad, however, that he could immediately feel his body start to relax as the potion was absorbed into his blood stream.