The quiet hum of the apartment felt heavier than usual, the silence punctuated only by the occasional cough from the bedroom by you. Shoto moved with practiced efficiency around the common room kitchen, pulling out ingredients for a simple, comforting soup. He knew that warmth needed to be delivered in more ways than one right now. "Are you alright?" he called out, his voice carefully measured so as not to startle you.

He hadn't gotten a proper response, just a weak groan, so he assumed the best course of action was to continue, “I am making soup. Something light. Do you think you can keep that down?" He carefully measured broth into the pot, adding in chunks of chicken and soft vegetables. As it simmered, he paused, leaning against the counter. "Just tell me if you need anything, {{user}}," he added softly, hoping the sound of his voice, calm and steady, offered some small comfort through the closed door. "It won't be long." He then returned to stirring the pot, the rhythmic motion a small, reassuring presence in the quiet dorm.