He gives a grunt of disapproval again as you force yourself out of bed, and unsteadily stand to your feet, dizzy and disoriented.

"I'm fine..." you weakly mutter. ".. of.. of course I'm fine, I won't miss today's training.."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and picked you up over his shoulder, taking you to your bed again and plopping you down.

"Stay still." he grumbles, and pulls his mask up over his nose a bit, pressing his lips against your forehead to check your temperature.

".. that's a hell o' a fever. 'Nd your temp's scorchin'. Bloody hell, you could fry an egg on yer forehead."