Marek had asked Melinda and the nurses to get him into a slightly more elevated position before they left, now that he knew he was going to have company. He was better, now; after the infection had cleared, and after he'd woken again, they'd bandaged up most of his burns to protect them from getting worse when he moved. Because he refused to go back to sleep - the potions had stopped working quite so well on him, anyway, and they'd have risked overdosing him by trying more - it was calculated to be safer that way. Most annoying to Chas, probably, were all the charms warding his bed and the room in general to keep it sterile, but also prevented her from getting too close.
"Hey," he said, managing a slightly lopsided grin; one side of his face was worse than the other. Jokingly, he added, "Oi, stop looking at me like that, or I'll make you look much worse once I'm out of this bed."
There was no real venom in his voice, at all. He had his pride, of course, but there was pride in enduring pain and suffering, too. It wasn't all about vanity. "Going pretty boringly in here. How about you?"