By the time Henry reappeared, Darcy was sure that he was looking very pale and concerned.
"Oh my god..." he gasped at him as he gave his diagnosis, which was about as strong as he tended to get with his language. The very word 'influenza' made him feel like he was going to be sick. He knew that Herny was telling him that it wasn't as serious as it used to be, but none of what he was saying was really going into his brain until there was the hand on his shoulder. It seemed to ground him in the moment again, and he looked up at him as he handed him the piece of paper. He was very glad he had though to write it down for him, because there was no way any of it was sticking.
"She's going to be fine...?" he repeated, glancing over the instructions and calming down a little. It was clear, concise, and the doctor really did seem to believe it would be okay.
Under any other circumstances, he would've been absolutely mortified by how much had been revealed to Henry now, but as it was he was nodded. "Okay. Thank you, doctor."