Michel wasn't aware that he was leaning forward, he could only feel it, he could feel his lips press against Zevran's gently and they were warmer than normal reminding him that his companion was ill. He withdrew after holding it for a moment, eyes heavy, hands coating their way up to rest on bare shoulders, "you're more important..."

Besides, Michel was used to keeping a straight face...well whatever expression he was wearing probably wasn't straight, but neither was smiling.

"That I can do...I have an ointment as well that might be soothing," and without questioning it, almost as if it was automatic, the Chevalier set to work, elfroot potion... and water. He also rummaged around in his own clothing for the ointment he kept and returned to the bed shortly.