You're wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and have on your slippers to minimize sound. You're trying to sneak out of your room again. You stop in your tracks when you hear a sigh followed by, "I'm not telling you agian."

He stands there, holding a cold, wet cloth and a bowl of soup. "Get back in your room and rest or at least find a couch and stay there." He says, firm yet soft.

You've been locked up all day, but as far as you care, you're over being sick. But he insists you stay in and rest.