In the rain, with a recently mended abdominal wound. [A beat.] You are an idiot. A well meaning idiot, but still an idiot.

[She pats his shoulder and stands, making her way over to the cabinets. Temperature, check the medication he's been given, check his stitches and bandages. Something like this she knows how to deal with, how to handle. Loss, even though she is familiar enough with it, leaves her unsettled. She's never certain what to say. Most often she says nothing.]

How long were you in the rain- and how much stress did you put yourself through?