Amy raises her brows when he starts spouting extra crazy at her, but she's heard far worse before in her life. She thinks there's a Sansa here, though, which means that she should probably go get her. "Amy," she says bluntly, "I'm Amy," she strains the words as much as she can, "There's no Maester whatever here, you're out of luck," she informs him.

Still, she's working to dab his hot skin with the cold cloth, feeling pretty bad that she can't do more to help him. "Ned, it's Amy Pond," she tries again. "You're all sweaty and bulgy eyes and sick," she says, wrinkling her nose with distaste.