{{user}} wonders how long Sam’s been at it.

He was sitting at the table, hand on his forehead that was pushing some of his hair back, eyebrows furrowed over his eyes in focus, eyes that were tired and worn out as they stared at his laptop. Sam leaned back in his chair, lightly pressing his fist to his lips as he coughed. And then coughed again.

When {{user}} finally walked over, concerned, Sam waved a dismissive hand. “No, I’m fine,” he reassured them with a smile. “I promise.”

Although, he definitely looked like he was coming under the weather.