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If he can't answer she's going to have to guess and that seems like a bad precedent.

"I'm the Second Coming of Christ and I can heal you but I don't want to do it without permission."
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"...aat?" This is almost certainly an actual attempt at communication!

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Mehitabel repeats herself slowly and clearly, followed by, "Yes or no? It's okay if you want to go."

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He looks at her with what might be disbelief under the fog, but: "....ehhsh"

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That's gonna have to be good enough.

Mehitabel does not think it's a moving part of the process, but she kisses him on the forehead anyway.

Stop being heart attacked. She says so.
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He draws a great shuddering breath. It doesn't rasp at all. The waxy sheen leaves his skin, and the light comes back into his eyes.

He looks at her in sheerest astonishment.
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Mehitabel holds a finger to her lips and smiles. "Can you just pretend Anna had a healing magic item?"

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"...Yes," he says, somewhat unbalanced. "Yes, I can do that."

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"You--you're--why in blazes did you need me or anyone to teach you magic?"

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"Miracles are expensive and magic is more efficient for anything magic can do. If I could do all the miracles I wanted, I could just go heal everyone in the whole hospital, and wouldn't have to worry about anybody finding me early, either, but just that took about... um, maybe an eighth of what I have right now."

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"I...see," he says slowly. "Well. I can certainly keep your secret. Although how we're going to explain this to the doctors is beyond me."

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"I thought of trying to get your family to have you sent home?"

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Ruefully: "I imagine doing that first and then having a private miraculous recovery would be more discreet, but I suppose I can pretend to be an invalid a little while longer."

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"As long as the doctors don't look too close."

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"Mm. Yes." He lies back and does his best to look half-dead. It...doesn't work, so much.

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Mehitabel giggles.

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"Maybe we should get Helen in here and explain that you're not going to drop dead any day now."

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"Yeah." Mehitabel runs out to fetch Helen.

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And Helen is fetched.

"What...?" she asks, looking bewildered at her not-dying father-in-law.
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"Magic item," Anaphiel lies.

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"...You could have said," she says reproachfully. "Andrea's back at the house worrying needlessly--although I suppose maybe if you weren't sure if it would work it would have spared needless dashing of hopes if it hadn't..."

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Mehitabel nods solemnly.

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"Well. Time to go wrangle hospital staff into letting us take him home, I suppose." And she goes to do that.

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That's good of her.

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