Enjolras's eyebrows lift. That particular way of phrasing it is probably forbidden somewhere in the Hippocratic Oath. He gives Grantaire a rather impatient look. If you don't tell me what's wrong, I can't fix it. The doctor begins taking a few implements out of his bag.
Any doctor has trouble trying to find elusive ailments.
I do not live inside your body, Monsieur. Grantaire flashes what's very nearly his usual sardonic grin. For which you should be grateful. He sits up a little further, cautiously. I imagine so.