Pin had been bent over a table outside his house all day, working on a cure for a sick brown moore pony he'd found. Unfortunately, he, himself, seemed rather bloody ill.

He gave you a quick glance as you walked over, feeling relatively cold in just riding clothes.

"I'm fine." He said curtly as you stood beside him, arms crossed. He rolled up his blue tartan sleeve and gave you a quick glance with his piedcing grey eyes. You didn't even have time to take in a breath to speak as he interrupted you. "Really, I am." He coughed several times, covering his mouth with his hand.