[Sherwood will ease away from his grasp on Caleb's hand, but only when the man begins retching. The doctor's hand on his shoulder moves to Caleb's back, firmly patting between his shoulder blade to help push those pesky petals out of him.]

There now, let it pass through you, old boy. [ What trouble this disease is... Sherwood needs ask,]

Will none of these friends visit you here? Demanding a sick man travel is of no kind consideration at all. Judging from how many you have coming up, you don't have time to be making house calls. [Or is it room service in such a place? That definitely sounds appropriately crude,]