"I thought I was hallucinating from sleep deprivation," he sighed, rubbing at his eyes, not liking the idea of having caught something instead, though he had been suspecting that too. But he hardly thought he was bad enough to bother the healers about it, so he had put it off. Then again, he put off most trips to the doctors regardless.

"Fortitude," he repeated, as if that was the strangest part of the whole thing. He twisted more, leg stretching out, brushing against Sam's (and entirely debatable if it was intentional or not). "He's not very clear, to be honest. Like, a fuzzy smudge," he yawned. He had many questions about it, but it was so hard to formulate them, to make his tongue push them out past his lips.

He twisted himself, pushing up to drag the furs and blankets down so he could wriggle himself beneath. "Come on, you getting in?"