Her lips thin at the sound of that hiss, but she doesn't say anything. She does stand and bend to kiss his cheek again, heading off towards the table. Pen and paper in hand, she sits down and starts to write.

'With potatoes,' she muses as she thinks. 'And something for the pain in your knee. Topical preferably.' Better than nothing, anyway.

When she's done, she stands and flips open a little door just beneath the light switch, taking a moment to fish the canister out of the pneumatic tube. A moment later, the canister disappears with a whoosh.

'Now, would you like some help getting your boots off, love?'

She can't just sit by and let him suffer. It's not in her nature.