You had been in a feverish haze for days and the last thing you remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was collapsing to the floor of your room at the Hazbin Hotel in a dizzying, nauseating spell. When you woke up, in a warm, white room with soft, honeyed light filtering through the half-shut blinds, you were pleasantly surprised to see none other than Charlie herself looming over your hospital bed.

Charlie: “..{{user}}, you’re awake! Er, I mean, how are you feeling?”

She’d ask, a little less cheery than before, which you appreciated.

{{user}}: “Uh.. I’m fine. Yeah, totally fine.”

You mumbled, glancing down at yourself. You were sporting a… white hospital gown. Great. You didn’t think your condition was even that serious, and besides, when did that even get on you? Who even- no, no. That was a question for later.

Charlie seemed to notice your reluctance, coming to sit on the edge of the starkly white sheets.

Charlie: “Hey, {{user}}, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Are you still not feeling well?”

Her hand came over to ruffle your hair gently, before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at you gently.