Merlin not only sounded dreadful, he felt dreadful. Or something approaching dreadful, anyway. It was unusual for him to sleep too far beyond dawn. Back in Camelot he'd have to be up to fetch Arthur's breakfast from the kitchens, help dress him and do any number of other things he might require before his day got underway. Here Merlin had to prepare Arthur's breakfast. Although with the limited supplies, it was a limited breakfast, so they'd both had to adjust. But this morning Merlin had woken to the sound of Arthur's voice coming through the device people used to communicate with one another here. He'd found them quite interesting himself, and could see their use. This, however, was the first time he saw the downside to them. He'd picked up their use a little quicker than Arthur when they were being taught, but he had a feeling that now that Arthur had worked this much out, this wouldn't be the last time he'd be hearing his voice through them. Merlin had responded though, which alerted him to the ache in his throat. His nose was also congested, which had come across in his voice. He was sick, not drunk. He'd scrambled to get dressed though, all the while yelling responses to Arthur through the device. As he made his way up the stairs, Merlin attempted to explain the concept of keeping food in tins, which was something he'd had to ask about himself. There was a simple way to get into them though, he just had to hope that Arthur hadn't already tried. He didn't fancy cleaning up more than he had to today.
He knocked before entering the King's apartment. He didn't really want to be accused of being drunk and forgetting his manners or his station or whatever else Arthur might accuse him of. Really, though, he would take anything thrown at him. Amongst the madness of arriving here and here as a general concept, Merlin was genuinely pleased that Arthur was here. Alive. Which probably meant that Arthur hadn't adjusted quite as well to their new surrounds, as he'd gone out of his way to be his servant. No one else here seemed to have servants, for a start. But one thing at a time. And right now, that was tins.
Entering the apartment, Merlin spotted Arthur standing at the table, the tin sitting defiantly in front of him in place of his breakfast. "Sorry," Merlin offered with his best apologetic smile. "I overslept." Really, that part was both too obvious to lie about or bother mentioning, yet Merlin mentioned it anyway. "I think I'm coming down with something." This time it wasn't actually an excuse, however. "Want me to take care of that?" he asked, indicating the tin, mentally preparing himself in case it was thrown in his direction for asking a stupid question.