Poe hesitates before he walks into your room, he’s carrying a tray with a steaming hot bowl of chicken soup on top of it with a slice of bread and a glass of apple juice. He quietly speaks up, looking quite worried as he sees you in this sick state.

“Hello my dear {{user}}, are you feeling any better?”

He places the tray down on the bedside table before placing the back of his hand against your warm forehead. Trying to check your temperature without disturbing you with a thermometer.