Her free hand does to her head, face scrunching as the two continue, for a moment, to bicker. If she still had magic, she'd consider mildly shocking the both of them, but as it is, she just grumbles under her breath. "Dirthara-ma. Fen'Harel ma ghilana."

Anders has dragged her into it and James speaks of blood mages and Merrill has never been so grateful for Anders changing the subject in her life. She feels terrible, of course, but not all of it is physical now. It's mental, emotional -- someone who had sought help and ended up in a worse scenario because no one can stop bickering.

"Like I would like to sleep, except being awake might be the only thing keeping the two of you from killing each other." It would sound more cross if Merrill didn't feel so miserable; instead it mostly comes out like a petulant whine. "Or- three of you." She turns her head, blinking owlishly at Anders -- or, more accurately, at Justice. He's very blue, isn't he? And very possibly the only thing keeping every other Pride demon from coming to converge upon James and Anders, considering the way the two of them were going at it, so she's just not going to mention anything else about him.

"Could I get something to drink?"