You woke up in the morning, under the sheets as you were curled up into a ball; Your shirt disheveled from the amount of sweat your fever was causing, trembling from the chills. Scaramouche entered your room after realizing you hadn't gotten out of bed at the normal hour, and you continued to hide beneath the covers for another five minutes.

"Hey. You awake?" He chuckled, unaware that you're sick.