coineater | Labyrinthum Inbox.

[Fortunately, he doesn't have to struggle alone. Blue helps him as he pushes himself up, a guiding hand put under his arm and assisting with some of the weight of his tired body. She pulls the blanket back around his shoulders as the shivers start again, a small attempt to bring him a little comfort while upright.]

You know I'll do my best.

[She brushes some of the sweat-slicked bangs away from his face. Then she gets to work.]

[She's already taken note of his fever with that previous gesture, moves her hands to the sides of his neck to feel for stiffness or swelling, checks his pulse, puts an ear to his back to listen for unusual sounds. She lacks the tools necessary for a good assessment, but the results are sufficient enough to give her confidence in what she already suspected:]

It sounds like pneumonia, if you know what that is.

[She has no way of knowing what Krat's level of medical knowledge might be. She moves from the bed to her satchel now, glass clinking as she pulls out the small jars she needs and sets them on the small bookcase nearby.]

You mentioned not having an appetite; do you feel nauseous?

[Her actions are tender, at first.

...

He closes his eyes, and is grateful when she moves on so all he has to think about is complying. When she makes her diagnosis, Cat grimaces and makes a soft, drawn out noise in complaint or confirmation, which is quickly swept into another weak coughing fit. Hell if he knows, but she sounds like she does. That's good -- it probably means she can do something. Pneumonia was normal. The clink of glass makes him hopeful enough to finally open his eyes again and turn his head towards her, wanting to see proof that medicine will be coming his way.]

Mm, sometimes. Rest is just...too tired, for that. [For feeling hunger, or indulging it.]

[It's understandable on both counts, the nausea and the fatigue. She only asks because asking him to take medicine would be pointless if it didn't stay in his stomach.]

One moment. [She leaves the bag where it is, containers set out in what seems like an indeterminate order, and walks briskly from the room. The sound of water can be heard briefly, and she returns with their two cups half full of warm water. Into one she stirs a powdered substance, then hands it to him.]

This one first, to warm you and settle your stomach. It won't taste terribly. A little earthy, a little spicy; but take it slowly if you need to. The next one will be bitter, and you'll need to keep it down.

[He'd much rather flop over and curl up tighter, letting sleep take him to an oblivion far away from then, but he can sadly acknowledge how fruitless that would be, the state his lungs are currently in. He still gives Blue a very clear grimace when he's offered the first glass.

It's not even tea... Just sad warm water with some crap in it. If he thought it would do anything, he'd try to make Fang Duobing eyes at her to make her sweeten things up a bit, at least, if she's going to force this trial on him. Looking dejected, as if she's denied him a unicorn rather than dutifully started acting as his nurse, Cat starts to sip at the water.

He doesn't like the way that holding the glass up to his mouth makes his wheezing echo back at him even more than he's already been feeling it.]

[The sad state of this kitten is truly a pitiable one, but he's correct in thinking she won't sacrifice his health for his poor tastebuds. If she had the luxury of making him a comforting tea instead, she would have done so. Though it'd be better still if she could provide him capsules that he didn't have to taste. She'll have to look into that for future rounds of medicine.]

[The dejection in his face does at least get her to take a seat on the bed beside him while he nurses his cup, hoping the nearness might be a comfort to him. Or even the way she brushes a bit of his hair.]

How long have you been feeling this badly?

[Nausea rears its ugly head not just as he swallows the odd mixture, but as he desperately wishes that the fingers ignoring how disgusting and sweaty his hair must be for the sake of comforting him weren't Blue's, but his sister's. It might not be fair to her, and it isn't meant to undercut his gratitude...but how could it not, just as much as him wanting Fox by his side is a forgone conclusion.

He's brought back from his misery by her voice.]

Not long. [But that likely had more to do with her messaging him first, since he had only been wallowing before that.] Ugh. I wanted to train a little. Not everything I fight s'gonna be -- a friend in disguise. I'm only gonna get worse...

[His eyes close again before he forces himself to gulp down more of the drink. Even then, he doesn't quite finish it, and nearly chokes after swallowing when a cough tickles up from his lungs.]

Mmngh... So I was going to spar with someone...yesterday? [The day before...? What day is it, even?] I dunno. But I had to stop. Went downhill from there. This is gross.

[But look...he's a good boy and finishing it before holding it weakly out for her to take.]

[There's a small press of her lips at his mention of a friend in disguise. But it's a fair comment, so she can't protest--and the thought is dismissed entirely when he starts to cough, prompting her to place a hand on his back to support him. Once he's finished and he offers back the cup, she takes takes it and sets it aside on the table with her other things. There's more medicine for him to take still, but she can give him a moment to rest from that first.]

I'll have something more palatable for you next time.

[She returns to brushing his hair back from his face in slow motions.]

Were your ribs healed already, to have you sparring with someone?

[Her hand feels soothing apart from how aware it makes him of how disgustingly sweaty he is. His nightshirt is sticking to him in places over it, and even with the blanket blocking the air from reaching him, it seems to find those clammy patches and make them colder.]

Healed enough for su-sure. If I stop anytime I feel a little -- s-sore, I'll never get back to it. I'm'lready having to shake rust off. You know I barely surv -- [Ugh, too much talking for his lungs, which they protest with more coughing.]

[He descends into a fit of coughing again and her hand moves to wrap around his shoulder, holding him while his lungs protest in their suffering. She waits for the coughing to pass before speaking again. If only healing him was as simple as sleeping off an injury in a recuperation pod. Would she be out of her mind for wishing that into being?... Probably. But she considers it briefly in lieu of feeling helpless at his pain.]

You should have told me... I could have checked if they were sturdy enough for that. As it is, you'll need to take care with all of this coughing. Your muscles might still be weak from healing, and you don't want to injure them again.

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