"Mrhm," he grunts, but nods at the suggestion of medicine. He's never thrilled at the idea of cough syrup — nobody is, really — but he knows it'll help. The question of what would help is both more tantalizing and more difficult to resolve. He wants... something, something more than just medicine, but he's not sure what. Comfort, of some sort, which is hard to find when his entire body aches and he feels too hot and too cold at the same time.

He thinks back to the last time, remembering how John read to him. It's a fond memory, even if he's too tired and miserable to smile about it now. That might be nice to pick up again. But for that he'd have to feel content with lying here, and while he has little energy for anything else, it doesn't feel very appealing.

He waits until John has gotten the medicine and he's taken it, waits a little longer until the awful taste isn't the only thing he can think about. At last he shrugs wearily. "Dunno," he says. "I wish..."

He breaks off to bury a sneeze in his elbow. The force it seems to take everything out of him, and he hunches over with an exhausted groan. Christ, he feels disgusting. "I wish I could just take a hot shower," he admits. The steam would help with his sinuses, and feeling clean would probably improve his mood a little, but he can't imagine standing up for that long, and his skin feels too sensitive for water to be pounding on it. "Could have a bath, I guess? Just..." He sighs. "Feels like so much effort."