He accepts the water with an absent murmur of thanks and gulps half of it down, still studying the room. People just seem really eager to give him water today, and so let it not be said that he does not stay hydrated. Even if it's really through no effort of his own.

"Hmm," he grunts, then registers that it was an actual question and scrambles to actually answer. "Uhhhh. Kinda. Sick, technically. S'what I get for trying to close the Gates of Hell, operative word being 'try'." He finishes his water and sets it on the nearest surface with a dull clunk. It has that metallic taste typical of most crappy hotels, but hey, Sam's used to it and he's rapidly losing the wherewithal to complain.

"What about you, though." He looks at her, head cocked. "Like, you're not human, huh?"