She shouldn't worry about him so much. It couldn't be good for her. So he had a little fever; it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

His reflexes were still good enough to catch the pillows she threw at him. See? He had good reaction time, still. Couldn't be so horrible if he could do that.

A little wave of nausea hit him when she sat back down. Stupid girl, did she have to shake the couch like that? Fine, fine. He'd lie down. Did she have to look at him that way?

He piled the pillows onto a corner of the couch and rested his head on them. "Shouldn't worry about me so much, you know."