[ She gently holds his hand as it curls around hers further. Eyes remain downwards to give him the privacy of his formal mask cracking. Ardbert had made mention of the Lord Commander, but she had never put the pieces together. He who commanded the Temple Knights seemed frosty and distant. Yet, he also cared for his men and loved his city deeply. Phya would wonder if that claim were still true if not for how his mask has broken now.

She does not wish to leave. The feeling of leaving comes from a fear of rejection. He had not wished for healers or company. It would be better to treat and love him from afar. There had been at least one life where that had been the status. Such a life would be deserved for leaving him in this cruel world. A world that hates him it seems. One that is unfair and left him with a "condition."

One that she can't recall readily.

Her fingers begin to move over his hand but stop. Such motions are not her place. She has yet to earn back those things. Things that she had failed at before. ]

I will need to fetch another towel, ser. I would dampen it and place it on your forehead to aid in breaking the fever. Is-is that alright?