Lyra walked over to the foot of his bed and took a quick glance at his chart.  Nowhere did it say he had to stay in bed, which was just as well—she was sure there was a bedpan underneath, but it would probably be easier if he could walk to the public restroom, and he would no doubt be more comfortable with the idea—especially if even naming the facility was embarrassing to him.  Already, he was sliding his legs off the bed, moving with difficulty since he was still tangled in the sheet.  She was about to help him pull it off when he made an odd circling gesture with his hand.  Puzzled, she stepped back.  He made the motion again, then turned his head away. 