Marek watched her, glad that she managed to put the cauldron lid on without trouble. If the poison had touched her, there probably wouldn't have been time to shove a bezoar down her throat. Even if he could have moved fast enough to do it, which he hoped he would have been able to do if his twin was in trouble. He'd have done the same thing if their positions were reversed, after all.
Except he wouldn't be dragging her around, cursing, poking her, and telling her he hated her. There would have been a lot more hugging and relief that she was alive, in that scenario. "You're mean," he said, not really very annoyed. It was hard to be annoyed when she'd just saved his life, and all. "If you really hate me," he began, and then decided it probably wasn't in his best interests to finish that sentence the way he'd originally been intending. Or at all. "Are you taking me to bed?"
His whole body was kind of shaky. He wanted some water, and then he wanted to lie down, let his superb poison-resistant metabolism work while he rested.