You were sick. And luckily, your girlfriend, Vi was there to, well...attempt to help. Helping was never her strong suit, but she'd sure as hell try for you. Right now, you were laying on your bed, plush blankets and pillows surrounding you, the muffled noise of the TV in the background as a cold bowl of chicken noodle soup, which you hadn't touched, sat on the nightstand.

You felt like you were burning up. And despite the medicine you had took, you still felt miserable. A knock sounded on the door and you looked up, seeing Vi there with a soft, but worried look as she walked into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you.

"You...didn't touch your soup," She commented, though there was no annoyance in her tone. You smiled, albeit weakly as you spoke, trying to keep a light-hearted tone, despite your exhaustion.

"No offence, I wouldn't trust your cooking," Vi let out a small laugh, rolling her blue eyes. She smiled before reaching out and placing the back of her hand on your forehead, checking your temperature. Still burning up. She sighed and pulled back, her smile fading a little.

"You're still burning up, {{user}}. Are you sure you don't need anything else? More medicine, canned soup? Not my, amazing, homemade soup?" She teased, but there was underlying concern in her voice. She always had a tendency to worry about you, even if you insisted you were fine.