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[ A huff of a laugh. Fine. He's been allowed more leeway than he expected, he won't push for more and risk shutting down the entire operation. ]

I'm gonna eat. Want me to leave you for a while?

[ For a while, an offer not a threat. He'll be back sooner or later whether Silco takes the respite of his parting for breakfast or not, but he's willing to give him some of the space he'd so adamantly craved when Stephen first showed up invited now he's not so deep in the pit of it. ]

[ Yes. Of course he wants his space back, wants to wallow — but in what misery? For what purpose? The easy dismissal catches in his throat. ]

I wouldn't begrudge you some breakfast, if you wanted to eat here.

[ Stepping carefully around the possibility that the good doctor might actually want a break from him, given givens. But definitely assenting to a little more company. ]

Yeah? Think you could stomach food in the room?

[ He was willing to let it go, but if Silco will create a self-inflicted opening in the conversation, he's not not going to take advantage of it. There's a knowing little look that says he doesn't actually have to answer.

In real response to the offer, he abandons the bed again to wander to the door, sticks his head out. True to form, a staff member is exactly where he needs them to be, and he makes his (very specific this time, fool him once) breakfast request, playfully citing the need to tend a patient to excuse them both from going down. Returns to this time climb back in properly, shedding his robe and shooing Silco out of the way to make space for himself to tuck in under the covers. ]

[ Silco moves just a little, stays close enough to run a hand down Stephen's biceps — even having let go of the dehydrated and muscular aesthetic, Stephen is always kinda of a revelation once he takes his clothes off and reveals he isn't built like the big nerd he is. Silco presses a kiss to his shoulder, then takes his hand and lifts it, ducking in under his arm to make a place for himself, but also keeping Stephen's fingers cradled carefully with his. It always makes this easier, remembering he isn't the only one with vulnerabilities. ]

Is Resculpt magic or a drug? In your opinion.

[ Bandages crinkling as he noses Stephen's skin. ]

[ Lips at his shoulder, hand on his hand, body tucking in against his side. The closeness fizzes warm, comfort without imminent threat. He curls his fingers, reaches his thumb to catch and stroke along Silco's. Leans in against him, peering down at Silco and their joined hands below as he considers the question. ]

Apparently the guy dealing the stuff says kelp's a key ingredient. [ He's spoken to Iggy in the interim between dinner and now, learned that little tidbit. ] If it is kelp [ palpable doubt ] it's magically supercharged kelp.

[ Which is his answer. There's no drug he knows, now or in the future he's seen, that can do what this has done in the span of time it's done it. ]

Shimmer is synthesized from an axolotl's secretion after it has been fed a mutagenic plant.

[ That is to say, he's aware that the line between manufactured drug and wild magical effects is a blurry one. But he's still interested in Stephen's insights, will ignore the fact that they're dozily cuddling to discuss what counts as a magical property, drilling down into theoretical magic with a hunger that Stephen likely sees an echo of himself in.

Though he's struggling through a certain amount of fogginess; by the time that breakfast arrives, ends up tentatively stealing small amounts of Stephen's, wanting the calories enough to risk the humiliation of further stomach upset. ]

[ The food is conspicuously suitable for a person whose stomach has recently spent a lot of time revolting. Plain toast cut diagonally into triangles comes in a little metal slice-holder, butter dish to one side. Scrambled eggs, avocado, a side of smoked salmon he doesn't anticipate sharing but gladly will, some slices of plain white meats. A little bowl of grapes and strawberries.

He makes no comment whenever Silco pilfers some for himself. Just keeps eating, winding through the discussion between bites. Happy to have forgotten briefly who he was talking to if only so he could be reminded with the depth of the conversation, the curiosity and the counter-offers, until the tray of food balanced over laps has seen as much use as either of them feel the need for. Instead of setting it down on the floor beside him, he reaches over Silco to place it on the empty stretch of bed they've made redundant with their closeness.

Tray abandoned, he plants one hand on the bed beside Silco's hip, twists around and steadies his chin with the other as he ducks in to kiss him. Light, fond gratitude - for the allowances made over the last many hours, for his company. The slightest edge of mischief in a barely there nip he soothes over with the soft sweep of his tongue. ]

[ While the food is rejuvenating, Silco gives too much to the conversation and wears himself thin, all his spark and stubbornness fading after so many failed rebellions, so by the time Stephen kisses him he's pliant, soft around the edges. Gives way to being handled, makes a high, pleased noise at the bite and doesn't retaliate beyond a tug of the fingers winding into Stephen's hair.

Though that same weariness is a barrier to taking advantage of this pliancy. Silco melts into the bed in a slow slide, and then just blinks up at Stephen, fingers exploring the curve of his ear. ]

I have no doubt there are patients other than me who could use your help.

[ As much as he wants to be selfish and allow Stephen to continue to dote on him with increasing precision, or maybe draw him into more lazy, sleepy cuddling, he's growing concerned about monopolising his time. ]

[ Down Silco goes. Stephen hovers over him, tender under gentle touch and the trust inherent in seeing him like this, letting the moment stretch for as long as it can after Silco utters the sentence that ushers him off to duty. He could deny it. State the local clinic staff have the situation under control, that this kind of medical practice has never been his wheelhouse anyway. But he did accept a responsibility. And he knows full well that at least one of his residents will be down there running themselves ragged before long.

A deep breath goes followed by a sigh. Stephen, rendered too fond to stop himself, ducks down to press his forehead to Silco's before drawing back entirely. Leaning to collect the tray, sit back for one last long look at him. ]

Rest. And if you feel anything going too far sideways, call.

[ Reluctant, he stands. Tray in one hand, he draws pinched thumb and finger down the midline of his body with the other, and in a second is dressed in easy basic layers, ready to get covered in whatever his self-ascribed rounds have in store for him. A smirk, a wink, and he turns to let himself out the way most people come and go: the door. Abandoned robes still hanging over the back of Silco's chair an unspoken guarantee that he'll be back. ]

[ (And if Silco flops across a bed that suddenly feels too big to smile into the pillow like a flustered teenage girl, what of it? And if he perhaps, once he's made it out of bed, takes a moment to gather up Stephen's robes and breathe in the scent of him around the collar, what of it? He's fine. This is normal. This was a normal thread with normal men.) ]

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