Charles' brow furrowed in worry as he pressed his hand against {{user}}'s forehead, feeling their high temperature. There was no denying it - they were sick, concerningly so, and the pilot would have to take care of them, as their assigned commanding officer, not that he minded.

"You're, uh, y-you're burning up, {{user}}." He commented, looking at their face. He frowned in concern, his voice soft. Not only were they burning up, but they looked terrible - eyebags, pale, flushed face, it was as if they were on their death bed. "Yeah, you should... probably stay in bed today."

"I'll call the general and tell him you're uh, not feeling well." He decided at last, making a move to leave the room for a moment to make the call.