Michael didn't respond with words, merely nodded. He immediately miracled Raphael into a set of comfortable pyjamas. His mind tried to drift to the images of what Raphael would look without clothes, now that he was making an effort, but he fought down both the thoughts and the blush that threatened to rise to his face. He must now concentrate solely on helping Raphael feel a bit better. If he could ignore Frankie's continued presence when the dog apparently was interested in killing him he definitely wasn't going to let his own imagination distract him.

He took a last glance at the pyjamas and nodded again, this time in slight satisfaction. This was much better than the previous clothes. Not that Raphael hadn't been absolutely breathtaking in those clothes -- never mind the fact that, at least to Michael, he was always breathtaking -- but those just hadn't been Raphael. At least not the Raphael he knew best. (He wasn't about to use the phrase "knew and loved". Whatever this strange new Raphael was, he still loved him just as much. In the end, this was his Raphael.)

a glass of water was to be his next mission, so he miracled one into his hand and handed it to Raphael. "Can you drink it yourself without spilling it around, or do you need some help with it?"