Dust laid there, unmoving in his slumber. He had a washcloth draped over his skull, the blankets kicked off of his body due to his fever. He was still curled up in his jacket, trembling slightly. Dust was still restless, occasionally shifting positions. The smaller skeleton didn’t even process your presence, clenching his sore stomach in discomfort. Dust had been sick for almost a week straight, and he couldn’t handle much food or be out of bed without emptying his guts