That didn't sound right, for a few different reasons. If Darrow was here on official hospital business and it was a life-or-death matter, wouldn't Mr. Brownhill have just gone and retrieved the ingredient himself instead of sending a hapless healer into look through all of the shelves? And Darrow had said a moment ago that he wasn't supposed to be here, and was just looking for the floo.

"You're stealing," Ford said matter-of-factly. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that that was the case, and whether it was for some dying patient at the hospital or for himself or for some shady black market arrangement, Ford didn't really care. He wasn't going to die trying to protect a bunch of plant stuff that belonged to a botanist he didn't actually know from one of Noble's (apparently insane) friends.

"Fine," he called, moving in what he thought was vaguely the direction of Darrow. "I won't stop you, alright? Just — you have to put your wand away. And you can't touch me again."