I'm great in bed, I can sleep for days

For his part, the smaller man just...stares at him, eyes the flat grey-blue of the Ouche on an overcast day, though he also seems to be looking through Guy, past him into somewhere else. He and Rüdeger had been bent over a hymnal manuscript, the cantor presumably letting him know the order of songs for the next office, though for the life of him Guy can't figure out how they had been communicating without speech.

"Brother Guy," Rüdeger says after a moment, breaking the reverie. "What brings you here? I thought you were meant to be in the scriptorium since Baron Rothvogel is due to arrive in a matter of days."

Guy's face twists. "Can't a man take a walk for ten minutes? Anyway, I need to ask..." He gestures vaguely at their third party, who's still staring into the middle distance. "I need to ask him a question."

Rüdeger heaves a sigh. "His name is Colum, but I doubt you bothered to remember." The hand he sets on Colum's head is large, nearly eclipsing the entire thing, and still the smaller man doesn't stir; he only turns those lake-colored eyes up to Guy blankly, though he seems a little more present than before.

"Colum...right." For a split second Guy weighs the option of speaking normally against the idea of bending down to eye level—he's so small that it's hard to believe he hasn't been sat upon at meals yet. "Meet me in the misericord during the Vespers meal."

It's anything but a question.

---

When Guy enters the small room off the infirmary after the slog of late-afternoon prayers and contemplation, carrying two small bowls of meat and broth, he's honestly shocked to see Colum sitting in a chair facing the fire, his feet a hair's breadth from scuffing the floor as he swings them idly. It's only now that he notices how ill-nourished Colum looks; the cowl of his habit droops over thin shoulders, the sleeves puddling around his hands that lay primly in his lap.

"Why are you starving yourself?" He doesn't mean for it to come out as an accusation, but he's shocked once again when Colum just turns to face him. This time, those eyes are fixed on him and the effect is disarming—Guy feels like he's been scourged open and his very soul is being examined.

"Why does it matter to you?" Colum counters, his expression never changing, but the dark circles under his eyes seem to shade just the slightest bit deeper. "My eating habits should be of no concern to anyone but myself and God."

Guy screws his face up in a mixture of genuine concern and affected anger (as ever, he hopes the disdain covers his true feelings), turns with a huff, and sets the bowls down before coming to stand behind Colum's chair. He grabs the uprights and shakes them once, hard, trying to dispel the anxiety chewing at the pit of his stomach. He'd not realized how stubborn the on-loan Irishman was. "Because I worry," he hisses through clenched teeth. "Salt and potherbs aren't enough to keep the human body alive."

That seems to have struck something in Colum; the wide eyes open even wider, a wary look entering them, and a rather fetching blush paints itself across wan, sunken cheeks. He chews on his lower lip, gaze darting away from Guy's face to focus on an invisible speck of dirt on his sleeve.

Quiet hangs in the air for so long it's about to drive Guy mad before Colum speaks again. "...If I eat whatever it is you've brought, will that get you off my case?"

Guy just nods, rewarding Colum with a rare smile, and drags another chair close by before thrusting the potage into Colum's hands. "For today, at least."

For his part, the smaller man just...stares at him, eyes the flat grey-blue of the Ouche on an overcast day, though he also seems to be looking through Guy, past him into somewhere else. He and Rüdeger had been bent over a hymnal manuscript, the cantor presumably letting him know the order of songs for the next office, though for the life of him Guy can't figure out how they had been communicating without speech.

"Brother Guy," Rüdeger says after a moment, breaking the reverie. "What brings you here? I thought you were meant to be in the scriptorium since Baron Rothvogel is due to arrive in a matter of days."

Guy's face twists. "Can't a man take a walk for ten minutes? Anyway, I need to ask..." He gestures vaguely at their third party, who's still staring into the middle distance. "I need to ask him a question."

Rüdeger heaves a sigh. "His name is Colum, but I doubt you bothered to remember." The hand he sets on Colum's head is large, nearly eclipsing the entire thing, and still the smaller man doesn't stir; he only turns those lake-colored eyes up to Guy blankly, though he seems a little more present than before.

"Colum...right." For a split second Guy weighs the option of speaking normally against the idea of bending down to eye level—he's so small that it's hard to believe he hasn't been sat upon at meals yet. "Meet me in the misericord during the Vespers meal."

It's anything but a question.

---

When Guy enters the small room off the infirmary after the slog of late-afternoon prayers and contemplation, carrying two small bowls of meat and broth, he's honestly shocked to see Colum sitting in a chair facing the fire, his feet a hair's breadth from scuffing the floor as he swings them idly. It's only now that he notices how ill-nourished Colum looks; the cowl of his habit droops over thin shoulders, the sleeves puddling around his hands that lay primly in his lap.

"Why are you starving yourself?" He doesn't mean for it to come out as an accusation, but he's shocked once again when Colum just turns to face him. This time, those eyes are fixed on him and the effect is disarming—Guy feels like he's been scourged open and his very soul is being examined.

"Why does it matter to you?" Colum counters, his expression never changing, but the dark circles under his eyes seem to shade just the slightest bit deeper. "My eating habits should be of no concern to anyone but myself and God."

Guy screws his face up in a mixture of genuine concern and affected anger (as ever, he hopes the disdain covers his true feelings), turns with a huff, and sets the bowls down before coming to stand behind Colum's chair. He grabs the uprights and shakes them once, hard, trying to dispel the anxiety chewing at the pit of his stomach. He'd not realized how stubborn the on-loan Irishman was. "Because I worry," he hisses through clenched teeth. "Salt and potherbs aren't enough to keep the human body alive."

That seems to have struck something in Colum; the wide eyes open even wider, a wary look entering them, and a rather fetching blush paints itself across wan, sunken cheeks. He chews on his lower lip, gaze darting away from Guy's face to focus on an invisible speck of dirt on his sleeve.

Quiet hangs in the air for so long it's about to drive Guy mad before Colum speaks again. "...If I eat whatever it is you've brought, will that get you off my case?"

Guy just nods, rewarding Colum with a rare smile, and drags another chair close by before thrusting the potage into Colum's hands. "For today, at least."