Fuuma shivered a bit, then he snezed.  "Someone must be talking about me..." he thought aloud.  There were only a few more minutes left in combat hour, but something didn't seem right, he drew his sword.  This was the time when people either tried to focus on digestion, or crawled/walked/draged their victim or attacker to the medical room, or just waited it out and recovered.  There were always a few trying to get in a meal around this time of the hour though...