Gideon's stomach flipped as she spoke. Since he'd been discharged. As soon as she'd pointed it out he realized he recognized her voice, though he might not have ever put it together of his own accord. "Oh," he said, looking a little shell-shocked for a moment despite his best efforts to adjust to this new reality. "Miss Chevalier. I didn't — well," he said, cheeks flushing. "I was going to say I didn't recognize you, but since the last time I saw you you were little more than a shadow I suppose that isn't surprising, is it?"

A part of him thought he was doing very well at pretending to be nonchalant, rattling off something like that without stumbling over any of his words, but a part of him thought maybe he was saying too much too quickly and it would be obvious that his mind was elsewhere. Specifically, his mind was trying to retrace every moment that he'd spent in the hospital, highlighting every time that he'd been too close to her or that she'd touched him or anything. He'd known that it was a bit outside the bounds of propriety at the time, of course, and he'd tried his best to remember that she was a professional and was just being professional — and kind, she had always been kind — but now, suddenly, it felt different. Maybe it shouldn't have, and maybe he was being a bit of a chauvinist for even thinking this, but it did feel different.

"Is your — are you alright?" he asked, voice full of concern. His mouth had gone a little dry at the thought of anything having happened to her. "I'd be happy to take a look at your wand, of course, but — I hope your arm wasn't too poorly off?"