Gwen needs him to stop scratching so she doesn’t start clawing at herself. It’s the only reason she said anything.

That’s a lie. She said something about it because he’s already her friend and she cares. She nods at Mr Starks request, watches him leave the cabin as she wonders to herself who Friday is and then, after another particularly fun coughing fit, she lets her head thud to the table. There’s a frustrated groan from her and then she mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “the attack on my life has left me scarred and deformed.”

And if she’s trying to be funny, she must be feeling somewhat better.

Resting her head on her arms, still facing downwards where the vent is blowing, Gwen hears Mr Stark return.

“Who is coming?”