[Entirely by coincidence, Merlin's just barely stumbled back into his cabin after a long infirmary shift. It's not been as bad as it could be - a lot of the Death Tollers seem principally interested in fleeing the Infirmary and licking their wounds elsewhere. Which is fine by him, frankly, so long as they don't pass out and concuss themselves later in the week. As much of his energy has gone on keeping the place secure against would-be thieves as it's gone on actually treating patients, but that's what he gets for volunteering to act as a healer on board a prison ship.
He'd just lock himself into one of the secure rooms and catch a few hours' sleep in the Infirmary itself, but he knows he wouldn't get any real rest and that way lies madness. So he's here, and the narrow lumpy cot Gaius uses for his patients has never looked more inviting -
Then he hears Arthur yell his name, and even as he flinches at the sound he's joyous. He crosses the room and takes the few steps up to the door, hauling it open without a second thought.]
Spam
He'd just lock himself into one of the secure rooms and catch a few hours' sleep in the Infirmary itself, but he knows he wouldn't get any real rest and that way lies madness. So he's here, and the narrow lumpy cot Gaius uses for his patients has never looked more inviting -
Then he hears Arthur yell his name, and even as he flinches at the sound he's joyous. He crosses the room and takes the few steps up to the door, hauling it open without a second thought.]
Need something, sire?