Qeya River take it from me, you're my dirty disease

He shivered slightly at the touch, closing his eyes for a few beats and wishing it could last longer. He nodded slowly as he opened them again, glancing around them briefly before settling his gaze back on the other. Um, I'm a medic, but— I don't think I can find herbs right now, His confession came quietly, a little ashamed; what kind of medic let himself get this way in the first place? Maybe I can describe them to you?
Assuming Outlander agreed, he paused only a beat before explaining. Umm— chervil. It's a plant with lots of small leaves, and really tiny white flowers— I need the roots. He hoped that was a good enough description— he really wasn't in any state to get up and look himself, not now. Nor was he in any state for the kind of thoughts lingering in the back of his mind, but that had never stopped him.