Charles had been making a habit of checking up on you every few hours as you stayed in your tent. He was worried. But he didn’t want to show that to you. You had been rotting away in your tent for a couple of weeks now. He often found you silently crying, or staring off at nothing, or sleeping. It was hard to get you to eat.

Charles peaks through the tent, and sees you on your bedroll. “Hey… How you feeling?”