With one final, "Stay there," Herbert walks swiftly back into the main area, getting a mug of water from the sink and a wooden chair. He walks back in with the chair hooked under one arm and the mug held carefully in the opposite hand. Setting it nearby on a side table, within Foster's grasp and the chair beside the bed, he reaches into his suit pocket and.

Takes out a bread roll and shoves it into Foster's dangling hand, curving the claws around it with a grip from the outside.

"Eat that," he demands. "Slowly, small bites--you'd probably choke on it, given the chance. I brought, water. As well. These are all things you could have done for yourself if you'd bothered to, push yourself with the medicine." Turning the chair where he wants it he sits two feet away from the head of the bed. Close enough to get to Foster if necessary but hopefully far enough away to continue to avoid vomit.