Martin's meal arrived, and Douglas graciously ate it for him, while Martin was fed through the tube in his nose.
He had to admit, he wasn't sure which was more appetizing. Which the hospital food wasn't dreadful, it was still hospital food, and made him yearn for the unpredictability of Arthur's cooking. The pile of white mush that he'd been told were potatoes had nothing on Arthur's surprising rice. The lime gelatin was the highlight, and even made Douglas feel a little guilty for taking that pleasure away from Martin.
"I'll make you a whole batch of lime gelatin when you're better," he told Martin when Irene stepped out. Irene was lovely, but Douglas didn't feel very comfortable talking to Martin when she was there. He generally didn't like having an audience.
"It may surprise you to know that I am an excellent gelatin maker. Just like I am an excellent co-pilot, and an excellent friend, and an excellent judge of where someone is sick. Which means I expect you to listen next time I tell you to go to the doctor."
Martin's eyes fluttered and opened briefly before closing again.
"Martin?" Douglas asked, squeezing his hand, but there was no response.
That cycle repeated over and over again, at least five times over the next hour, until Martin was able to keep his eyes open and focus on Douglas.
"It's alright Martin," he soothed, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Don't try to move much. You're in hospital, remember?"
Martin only blinked at him.
"Well, I don't suppose you would remember much of it, considering the high fever you were running." And the fact that you were barely conscious because of the lack of oxygen to your brain, Douglas wanted to add, but bit his tongue.
"How are you feeling? Sick I'd expect."
A slight squeeze of Douglas' hand.
"Yes, that's sort of expected when you have pneumonia. You have a tube in your throat, so don't try to speak. And for god's sake, don't do anything stupid like try to pull it out."
Martin rolled his eyes and squeezed his hand again slightly, as if to indicate he was not so stupid as to try something like that.
Douglas raised an eyebrow. "No need to get snippy. I'm just repeating what Irene said."
Martin raised an eyebrow as a form of a question.
"Your nurse," Douglas replied. "And here she comes now."
Martin tried to turn his head to see, but Douglas could tell the mere effort exhausted him.
"Irene, I believe Martin would like to see your face," Douglas said, shaking his head slightly at Martin, telling him to stop being an idiot.
Irene smiled brightly and leaned over so Martin could see without moving his head.
"Hello Martin. I'm Irene, your nurse as Douglas said. It's nice to see your eyes."
He only blinked at her.
"Do you need anything?" she asked him.
Douglas wasn't sure what she was expecting to get, it wasn't like Martin would be able to talk after all, but he shook his head minutely, and that seemed to be enough.
"Alright. I'll be here if you need anything. Just let your friend know and he can ring me."
Martin nodded again slightly, then closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted by the effort.
"Are you sleeping?" Douglas asked.
Martin's eyes reopened, an answer in itself.
Douglas smirked. "And look at you, a captive audience. I can play my word games all I like. And it will pretty much be the same as if you could speak."
Martin rolled his eyes at Douglas, and that action alone spoke volumes.
Douglas grinned and went off into a list of actors with evil sounding names.