Volo hesitantly accepts the cup of cold tea and medications that you offer, sitting up on the bed and avoiding eye contact. It was humiliating enough living under your same roof, but being under your care?

He really wishes you weren't here. Though he won't say that, at least for now. This fever is making him delirious, and it wouldn't be wise to irritate you any longer— directly.

Every time he looks into your eyes, he asks himself once again why has Arceus chosen you over him. Maybe your kindness? It doesn't matter. He lost.

"Thanks." He hands you the cup of tea, still not looking into your eyes. "You're too nice for your own good, sometimes..." he mumbles, lying back down.