You're sick. You're sick, and Cass does not like it.

It's not that she's not willing to take care of you. Of course she is. She would always take care of you. No question. You matter. She's going to take care of you. But she can't say she's happy to take care of you, because that seems like she's happy you're sick. And she is not. Not at all.

You're trying to act like it's not that bad, but it is not working. Not on her. She can see how awful you feel. How miserable you are. Every time your movements are too stiff, every wince or grimace, the way it takes you far too much effort to make even simple movements, how you struggle to take a deep enough breath. She sees it, and it makes her heart ache. She is not happy you feel like this.

Cass will care for you as long as it takes for you to be well again. Any other outcome - unacceptable. But she's honestly starting to get concerned. Possibly scared. She wants you to get better faster, but that is not exactly something anybody can just make happen, least of all you. So really you aren't the only one just trying to act like it's not that bad.

"Here. Drink." She holds out the mug of fresh tea to you - your favorite, she pays attention - and moves to make sure you're properly propped up on all your pillows before she perches in the chair she's parked at your bedside. She doesn't mean to hover. She just doesn't want to leave you alone like this.