"Because you're a paranoid basket case when it comes to medicine?" Dorcas offered with a small scoff. She looked over at him and noticed the vile sitting idly in his hands. "Would you just drink the blasted potion already?" She prodded as she moved closer to the bed, noticing how much worse he looked up close.
Dorcas might've been impressed with the way he defended her to the elf, if she wasn't so transfixed on the fact that he became even more pale when he sat up. She had been sure that wasn't possible. Still, through her astonishment, she managed to feel a slight clenching in her stomach that she couldn't quite define and the corners of her mouth gave a very slight tug upwards.
"Right and I'm the bloody Queen of England. Now, lay the feck back down before you make yourself any worse." She commanded before shooting a slightly triumphant look towards the elf who in turn mumbled something under his breath and turned to leave the room.