Church peers--peers, through squinted eyes, trying to focus, and then trying to make himself not focus, and it's probably entertaining to anyone who might see him--at Adelaide over a bowl of stew. The heat rising in his body isn't the part he's hating about this, it's the weakness. It's slogging through Mire-like mud and feeling like he could just sink down in it and fucking drown himself in it if he didn't keep going.

But whatever. He's not bad enough to be bedridden--honestly! He's not! Those cots and beds are for sicker people. This is just a cold. Flu. Whatever's going around that this stupid body caught. Still, he's both trying to and trying not to pay attention to the harried mage when she enters, bustling about even harder than usual.

Maybe it's a blanket? Surely that's a blanket. But it's not. And he knows of Compassion and knows about Addie's glowing hands and magic and... "I thought we weren't supposed to see those."