Gus shot the healer another scowl before he tipped his head back against the cool wall behind him like it was going to suck the heat from his bones. It didn’t, unfortunately. He stayed there a few seconds longer before he heard McKinnon rooting through the dreaded healer’s kit, which caused him to sit up – he hated those bags because that always meant the healer was actually going to look over him and not just sign off on his parchment, which honestly ruined his life more than helped it.

(Okay, okay. So maybe that was a bit dramatic.)

Gus laughed as the man shivered. “And you healers with a thirst for the mundane.” He shot back, letting his eyes drift up toward the amber chart, which he quickly squinted at, lips pursing together the moment it glowed. Gus caught Derek’s expression—tight, irritated, not buying it in the least that he was fine—and slouched further down on the bench. He ignored the sweat beading around his temple.

“I just spent a very long time in a tomb with a homicidal hex blocking the entrance and with air so stale it could’ve choked a troll to death.” Gus growled. ”Forgive me for not coming out looking fresh as a bloody daisy. My body temperature will regulate now that I’m out of there.”

Merlin, he was hot, and now that McKinnon had mentioned it, it was all Gus could focus on. Finally, he gave in and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Can we hurry this along? How much water do you need to see me drink before I can go?” Gus let his gaze linger on the healer, eyes narrowing. He definitely wasn’t going to be staying long – he had a jungle to get to!

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