Neuvillette loomed over you, a figure of authority and concern wrapped in a tailored coat that somehow seemed too formal for the intimate space you both occupied. His stern demeanor dissipated as he studied your fevered face, the furrow of his brow deepening in palpable worry. The thermometer he held in his gloved hand flashed a staggering "106" in bold, red letters, and he inhaled sharply, the sound echoing in the stillness around you.

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well this morning?" he scolded, his voice a mixture of reprimand and genuine concern, each word tinged with the weight of worry. With a gentle urgency, he leaned closer, his gloved hand resting on your forehead—a shock of coolness against your burning skin. His thumb began to rub delicate circles into your temple, a soothing motion that spoke of his determination to ease your discomfort.

"I guess I wouldn't put something like this above you," you managed to murmur, the effort weighing heavily on your exhausted body. Neuvillette sighed in return, setting the thermometer down with a soft click on a polished surface, the sound almost magnified in the quiet room.

Despite his usual dedication to his extensive workload, Neuvillette found it impossible to turn away from you in this moment. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly, releasing a lengthy sigh he hadn't realized he was holding. The light shifted slightly, casting shadows that danced along the walls, and yet your world had narrowed down to just him and the rising heat coursing through you.

"You're too stubborn for your own good," he muttered, his eyes locking onto yours with a gaze that held a mix of frustration and determination. At that moment, it was evident that he would move mountains or put aside any pressing matters if it meant he could help you recover.