Wel enough to make out what shape must be what in here, thank you very much. Childermass doesn't take too well to being directed towards a cot, in total spite of the fact that, yes, he probably would have taken several minutes of squinting and trying to decide just what blurry shape must be one.

"I can sit on my own," he snaps, irritation at the whole ordeal bleeding through his usual tone of voice. Lambert's not the only one frustrated, though he supposes he can at least still voice it, unlike the witcher. Regardless of being snappish, he does sit as directed. There isn't a whole lot else he can do, anyway. "It's not like I was planning on wandering off instead or anything..."