"Ah, [N-name]..." Ludwig's voice called out to you softly. You were napping on the Beilschmidt's living room sofa, only in a spaghetti strap and Nike shorts. "Are you alright, Schatz?"
"Bah, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" You replied, rolling your eyes. You sighed, and puffed out a breath of heated air. Obviously you were running a fever, your cheeks incredibly heated, flushed with a pink tint; your hair was out of its usual ponytail and askew, while you were just too tired to move at all. Your arms were sore, your legs were sore and most of all whenever you tried to stand up a wave of the chills would cause you to fall back on the sofa again, weak and limp.
"[Name]," Ludwig persisted, folding his arms as he put his green uniform jacket over his shoulders, "You obviously aren't. I'll go get some of that medicine from the pharmacy nearby-"
"NO!" You shouted, using the last of your energy. You fell back on your mountain of pillows again and pulled the quilt throw over yourself. "I don't wanna drink any medicine. It's disgusting," you muttered. "Besides, I get over these sort of things in a flash. Don't get yourself in a knot for this. Go do some work or something worthwhile, okay?"
"Nein!" Ludwig growled sternly. "I don't want you strewn across my couch just sick like that..."
"Nyahh," you replied softly, pulling a face.
Just before Ludwig shut the door, he said, "Oh, and [Name]?"
"Vat do you vant," you chided in a fake German accent, yawning.
"You're completely worthwhile to me."
Then the door closed, leaving a very confused you behind to ponder what the mysterious German just said to you.