Macmillan had a point, but it was one easily refuted. They could go back and forth all night and they wouldn't have a good solution, but this wasn't exactly an easy problem to solve so they'd have decide—or Valerian would have to decide, since Macmillan wasn't in any state to be making decisions—what the best path forward was. He eyed Macmillan's bandages suspiciously, knowing there was no way that he'd be able to go into work without being caught. There was just - absolutely no way. He had an infection, and although he believed he'd stopped it with his potions there was no telling how it would develop over the next few hours, let alone the next day.
"You can't travel magically. Not like this. The potion I've given you doesn't react well with added magic—it's too strong. I wouldn't even floo with it," he explained using his healer voice, which felt a little misplaced but also very necessary given the severity of the situation. "This is a guest room. Nobody comes in here except the servants to dust once a week. You'll be safe here." Safe, healthy, under his watchful eye (and hopefully not-dead, too.)
"You can't travel magically. Not like this. The potion I've given you doesn't react well with added magic—it's too strong. I wouldn't even floo with it," he explained using his healer voice, which felt a little misplaced but also very necessary given the severity of the situation. "This is a guest room. Nobody comes in here except the servants to dust once a week. You'll be safe here." Safe, healthy, under his watchful eye (and hopefully not-dead, too.)
