A wet, rattling sneeze tore out of Hodari, strong enough to rock his entire spine forward, and his pickaxe clattering to the floor with it.

“Fuckin’—damn—s’fine,” he wheezed, wiping his nose with the side of his forearm. Sweat dripped down his temples, half from the heat and half from the fever. He sniffed, then sneezed again, louder this time—violently, like a man trying to sneeze a lung loose.

And still, the stubborn bastard reached for the pick. Still tried to steady a half-loosened chunk of ore like his whole body wasn’t visibly shaking.

He looked like shit.

Eyes bloodshot. Shirt soaked. That flush across his cheeks? Not from the work.

But he’d die before admitting it.

crunch.

The sound of gravel under boots. Not his. Not a foreman either. Too soft, too familiar.

And there you were.

In the doorway. Arms crossed. Mouth tight. That expression that said someone told you that Hodari’s sick, and now his options were comply or die trying not to.

He straightened instantly. Or tried to. The motion set off a coughing fit so brutal he had to brace a hand against the wall just to stay upright.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to.

He saw the look in your eyes and flinched like you were about to throw him over your shoulder.

“No—nope, don’t gimme that,” he rasped, waving one shaky hand like he could scatter you back into the wind. “M’fine. Jus’ a little warm in here. Got a lot—a lotta shit t’finish, alright? This vein ain’t gonna dig itself—”

You took one step forward.

He took one step back. Straight into his cart.

“I said I’m fine!”

Another sneeze detonated out of him, bending him halfway in half. When he straightened, red-faced and swaying, he tried to glare, but it came out more like a fevered pout.

“You always do this,” he whined, suddenly defensive like a cornered raccoon. “Get that soft look like I’m gonna crumple. Well, I ain’t crumplin’. Not this time. I’m workin’. Jus’ gotta… sit down a sec…”

He stumbled back sliding down to the ground.

“…Not ‘cause I’m tired,” he added quickly, eyes fluttering shut. “Jus’ checkin’ the structural integrity of this bench.”