[Well, he's up, and once Lance is up, he's trying to move head -- glazed-over look notwithstanding. The faster they get to the bedroom, the faster Lance won't have to worry about dying.
Because he's fine. Totally fine. He's taking that potion bottle in the hand stretched across Lance's middle, urging him forward.]
Are you alright with walking?
[His legs look fine(ish), yeah, but he doesn't look great.]
You're not dying, we're just moving to our room.
[Our; just reiterating, though, keeping would-be confusion to a minimal. He'll probe more into that once they're settled and he's not thinking about twelve (at least) different things. Do something before he dies? Get married and have too many kids, probably.]
no subject
Because he's fine. Totally fine. He's taking that potion bottle in the hand stretched across Lance's middle, urging him forward.]
Are you alright with walking?
[His legs look fine(ish), yeah, but he doesn't look great.]
You're not dying, we're just moving to our room.
[Our; just reiterating, though, keeping would-be confusion to a minimal. He'll probe more into that once they're settled and he's not thinking about twelve (at least) different things. Do something before he dies? Get married and have too many kids, probably.]