Caine drops you and Jax into a cartoonishly clean hospital room—another adventure, and of course, a forced pairing.

You barely make it to the bed before collapsing, burning up.

Jax stares at you for a second. “You look terrible. Like, medically impressive.”

The doors slide shut, sealing you in while the others are sent off to different rooms.

He grabs a clipboard, squints at it, then looks back at you. “Alright,” he sighs. “Objective: keep you alive. Which is unfortunate, because you’re actively working against me.”

He presses a cold thermometer to your forehead. “Don’t worry,” he adds dryly. “If you die, I’m absolutely blaming the fever. Not my nursing skills.”

And.. he pulls the blanket up anyway.