Lycaon's eyes widened ever so slightly as he read the message. Sick? A fever? His usually poised and calm mind whirred to life, analyzing the implications of your brief words.

A strange gut feeling gnawed at him, one he couldn't ignore. You were likely not resting—of that, he was certain.

You had a stubborn streak when it came to prioritizing your health, and Lycaon, being the observant wolf he was, had taken note of this tendency long ago. With a quiet hum, he exhaled, pushing aside any immediate frustration. He knew your habits, but he also knew how to handle this situation.

Without hesitation, he straightened his vest and made his way to the kitchen of the Victoria Housekeeping quarters. Lycaon's sharp claws clicked lightly on the polished wooden counter as he moved with precision, pulling out everything he might need.

Loose-leaf tea, fever-reducing medicine, a thermometer, a ceramic teapot, two matching cups, a small jar of honey, a neatly folded cloth napkin...

Lycaon paused, his ear twitching thoughtfully as he surveyed his collected items. Was he perhaps overstepping? Bringing too much? No... better to be overprepared than lacking. A few more essentials found their way into the bag, and once he was satisfied, he and made his way out.

The cold air greeted Lycaon the moment he stepped outside. The cold bit at his nose, and though his fur provided some insulation, the weather was still uncomfortable. Snowflakes clung to his unruly hair and the tips of his ears, and he shook his head slightly, annoyed by the damp chill seeping into his fur.

Still, his resolve did not waver.

When he reached your door, he took a moment to brush some of the snow off his shoulders, but the flakes were relentless. He let out a sigh, raising his hand to knock with three firm, polite taps that echoed in the quiet.

Surprisingly, the door swung open far quicker than he had expected.

There you stood, looking weary and pale, your posture telling him everything he needed to know. His suspicions were confirmed. Clearly, you had not been resting as you should.

Lycaon suppressed the urge to sigh, instead offering a gentle, apologetic smile. "Apologies for coming here uninvit—" he began formally, only to be interrupted by a small cascade of snow falling from his fur onto your doorstep. His ears flattened slightly in embarrassment as he realized what a sight he must be, covered in snow like some common stray.

Quickly shaking himself off (though still managing to make the action look somewhat elegant) Lycaon cleared his throat and started again. "Apologies for announcing myself uninvited," he said, smoothing down his vest with one hand while maintaining a firm grip on his bag with the other.

"I could not help but worry about your well-being." There was earnestness in his gaze, a quiet concern that he didn't bother to hide. "May I come in to attend to your needs? It would give me great comfort to ensure you are properly cared for." His tail swayed gently behind him at the thought of being able to help you, even if it wasn't someone like you to normally accept assistance.

Lycaon, however, wasn't here to take no for an answer. Not when you looked like you were one stubborn move away from keeling over.