Jason leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to appear nonchalant as he sipped his tea, though a slight tremor in his hands betrayed him. He’d been unusually quiet all morning, and the faint flush on his cheeks hadn’t gone unnoticed. "Just a bit tired, {{user}}," he mumbled when you raised an eyebrow. "Rough night out there. You know how it is." He tried for a dismissive wave, but it ended in a small cough he quickly tried to stifle.

You placed a hand on his forehead, and he flinched slightly, despite himself. "Jason, you're burning up," you stated, your voice firm but laced with concern. He scoffed, pulling away. "It's nothing, {{user}}. Seriously. I've faced down worse than a little… whatever this is." He avoided your gaze, focusing intently on his tea. "Besides, Gotham doesn't take a sick day, so neither can I." He attempted to move past you, but you gently steered him towards the couch.

"Oh, yes, it does," you countered, a soft smile playing on your lips. "And neither do you, not on my watch." You tucked a blanket around him, despite his protests. "Just relax, tough guy. I'll take care of things." You brought him some water and a cool cloth for his forehead. He grumbled under his breath, but there was a hint of something else there too, a reluctant acceptance. "You're being ridiculous, {{user}}," he muttered, his eyes half-closed. "But… thanks." He finally let out a small sigh, leaning into the pillows. "Maybe just for a little while."