[ With a reaction like that, she can only conclude that the flower holds sentimental to him, yet now he's talking of it as if it's a nuisance for which to care. Before she can ask why he goes through all the effort, he's back to his usual, stoic self as if flipping a switch. Rem gives one more glance in the flower's direction-- ugly? Not at all!-- before joining him at the table.

The appearance of the writing kit earns a lift of her brow. Then man is full of magical surprises. When her surprise settles, she clears her throat. ]

I'm... recovering, I am. [ There. An amendment to her outright denying it, a half-truth. ] But if you're going to teach me something more about these medicines, I'm willing to listen.