Carlisle's eyes fall, his brow knitting against Glacius' forehead. Despite his aptitude in his craft -- he can do a great amount of healing before reaching his breaking point, far more than other healers from his world -- even he has a limit, one he has reached a handful of times in his life when times were desperate. Each time seemed to push the boundaries of his skills a little farther, allowed him to do more before he had to stop; however, the consequences of his fatigue were more apparent each time, as well. He's passed out before, and even a time or two before reaching the depths of his exhaustion, but to be unconscious for over a day, all while hacking up the black bile is undeniably troubling.

But it is a trouble for another day -- he has many of those. He presses against Glacius tightly, the alien's hand at the back of his head encouraging him as he brings his own to Glacius' jaw. He wants to acquiesce to the alien's request but...

"I am not in the habit of making promises I cannot keep, Glacius."