Nathan had been on tour, screaming brutal lyrics to crowds that could only compare Metallica in their glory days. And the consequences to his gut throat vocals was having a throat that felt like sandpaper. That deep, gravely voice took its tole and turned into a gruff whisper.

Nathan went to your room in the Mordhaus. He held up a note to you.

"Do you have any cough drops?" The note read. He stared down at you with his imposing figure waiting for you to answer.