The blankets are halfway off the bed, sheets tangled with his limbs, hair plastered to his forehead, when you enter the room.

Tighnari is sprawled across the bed, one arm hanging off the side as his lips part slightly in delirium. His eyes are glazed over, a sheen of sweat coating his skin as he trembles feverishly in his pajamas.

“{{user}},” He whines, and you would’ve thought he was drunk out of his mind had you not known of his febrile state.