Claude knelt by the couch and poked Hilda's nose until she cracked a bleary eye open at him.

"Good morning sunshine," he began softly "water there for you, and some painkillers. When you feel like getting up, help yourself to whatever is in the fridge, I've got one appointment to go to, but I'll be back in an hour or so, 'kay?"

Hilda murmured something that was probably an agreement and snuggled back down under the blanket, practically burrowing herself into his couch, and Claude made his way out the door. He'd left early enough that he could take the long way through the park and the water-gardens to just enjoy being outdoors; take his time getting to the meeting, and leaving the panic and emergency-Hilda-supply shopping until the way back.

When he reached the university grounds the signage was immediately excessive. Lysithea had sent him detailed instructions on where to go, and then, apparently, also had signs put up every twenty feet. It was almost enough to make him want to pretend to get lost and be late on purpose.

But she did know where he lived.

Lived in the same building even.

So he made his way through the various corridors until he came to the hall Lysithea had directed him to. Curtain rails had been put up, dividing the hall into "rooms" that gave at least the semblance of privacy. There were further signs sectioning the hall off to each researcher and Claude moved over towards Lysithea's zone, just as she was backing out of one curtained room.

"-fill that out and I will be right back." She concluded, closing the curtain and turning to face him "Good timing! In here please." She immediately pulled him into the adjoining "room", adjusting the curtain and all but pushing him onto the most uncomfortable chair in existence -a staple of waiting rooms everywhere. He adjusted his seat, aware of the legs of the chair next door just under the curtain beside him and the faint scratching of pen on paper as the occupant filled in the forms he'd answered a fortnight ago.

"If I could just have the monitor back please." Lysithea asked, holding out her hand as Claude slipped the band off his wrist. "Thank you. Were there any events in the past two weeks you can think of that may have affected your heart rate abnormally?"

"Nothing comes to mind." He answered, watching as she opened her laptop and swabbed the band with a sanitising wipe before placing it on an attached -pad? Scanner? He assumed it was reading from the band as Lysithea's screen suddenly filled up with graphs. "Hey, how come there's no face or display or whatever on it?"

"Previous studies found people messed about trying to artificially manipulate their heart-rate if they could see what it was." Lysithea answered absently, eyes roving over the pattern of spikes on screen "So we had these made with no display to eliminate that. You jog, right?" she asked, but barely even waited for a response before going back to the screen "That will be these times then… Alright! I have everything I need from you, thank you for participating, I know I kind of sprung it on you at the start."

"No worries, Lissy." He winked "Happy for you to show the scientific community how amazing I am."

"Average." Lysithea shot back, and Claude paused in standing up.

"Pardon?"

"Average." She repeated with a small smirk "Just one more data set in the control group because you're average."

"Excuse me?" he asked in a tone of mock-affront, Lysithea was very clearly smiling now "What part of me is "average"!?" he added, even striking a pose with one hand on hip. A stifled snort came through the curtain behind him at his dramatic tone.

"No underlying conditions, moderate exercise, twenty-something male. Utterly and completely average." Lysithea listed off, grinning

"Are you hearing this slander?" he addressed the person on the other side of the curtain "I did not sign up for this!"

"It's not slander if it's true." a feminine voice answered with a smile in her tone.

Claude tutted and began making his way out "Well, I shall just remove my average self from this exalted company then. Catch you later, Lissy." He winked.

"Don't call me Lissy!" Lysithea shouted after him, rolling her eyes as she stepped back through the other curtain once he'd rounded the corner out of sight. "Sorry about him, are you almost done with the forms?"

"It's no trouble," Byleth answered "here you go."

"You write quickly." Lysithea noted with approval. "So, atrial fibrillation? Is there a family history?"

"My Mother has the same, but worse I suppose. I guess we didn't have the same treatments and medicines when she was younger?"

"Likely not, although it is possible her case is just more severe. Is there any chance she'd be able to participate?"

Byleth shook her head "My folks flew back home this morning. I'm actually heading out to the Locket tonight and on a trip over to Garreg Mach the next week, is that going to be an issue?"

"Airport security won't even notice it." Lysithea answered, taking the band Claude had worn and giving it an extra going over with a wipe before handing it over "Even if they do, I can adjust for a two minute outage. It's no problem at all. Just don't go scuba-diving with it on. Everything else is fine."

"I think I can manage that." Byleth agreed.

~o~*~o~

When Claude arrived at home he quickly stowed away the new emergency-Hilda-supplies he'd picked up before padding through the apartment to find her. She was standing framed against the window in his office as the sky rapidly darkened with the first of the summer squalls blowing in from the sea. Her face was lit by the glow from her phone as she looked down at it, the screen suggesting a call had recently ended as he moved closer towards her. Hilda at last looked up at his approach and he paused at the downward twist to her lips.

It was not a pretty expression.

"So I… I guess I'm actually just single." She said, trying to be nonchalant. It didn't work. Not even a little. Claude opened his arms and she all but fell into him, tears renewed.

~o~*~o~

Hilda was not much up for talking so they made a fortress of the couch and indulged in ice-cream and brain-dead movies. By the time they came to dinner the squall had intensified and both had received notifications for local flash-flood warnings, prompting the usual round of complaints about the city never really clearing the canals properly.

It was almost normal, which made Hilda's lack of… Hildaness the more apparent. She followed along in his wake like a duckling as he went to throw some pasta together (and heavens help him if Nader ever discovered the shortcuts Claude took in his own home cooking) and took a picture of her plate once he'd served them up -but she didn't then spend five minutes adjusting, filtering and editing the picture while it cooled.

They were setting up for more films when Claude's phone rang with Balthus's ringtone. Claude ignored it, figuring if it was important he'd-

-he called back immediately.

Hilda waved him off and he meandered out of the room to answer.

"Hey Balthus, what's up?"

"Hey, buddy, listen. I gotta pal stranded out your way with this storm. Flight cancelled, airport hotel overbooked, the full works. Any chance she can crash at yours?"

"Balthus, you know any friend of yours is a friend of mine, but I've got the pink hurricane on my couch just now."

Balthus was silent on the line for a moment

"Do I need to beat someone up?" he asked, and despite himself Claude grinned

"Ah, much as I might like to see that, I don't think it would help. In any case we're seeing Marianne in a couple days, I expect she'll feel better then."

"Well if you're sure." Balthus agreed, absently "Damn, I was really counting on you there, I owe a favour and- oh, hey, if Hilda is with you she's not at her place right? Does she still keep a spare key under-"

"Oh no." Claude cut in, wandering back towards the lounge "I'm not middle-manning if you're asking favours from Hilda. Ask her yourself." He concluded and passed the phone down to Hilda with a wink. She frowned at him, but took it anyway and Claude moved off again to sort their drinks and tidy the kitchen as she dealt with Balthus.

~o~*~o~

Once she'd finished on the phone, Hilda padded through to the kitchen to return it to Claude, and lingered watching him put their earlier dishes away. All of Claude's crockery was a plain white -easily replaceable from almost any shop, as he had a habit of breaking plates accidentally. At the rate he went through them, dining out so often was the cheaper option.

So he claimed, anyway. Hilda figured it was a ridiculous excuse to throw people off, obscuring the fact that, at heart, he was just a giant foodie.

"Do you think this is Balthus's girlfriend?" She asked, leaning her elbows on the kitchen island and cupping her face in her hands

"I think we'd have heard if "the King of Grappling"'s abs were no longer available for public viewing." Claude answered, putting one last plate away and closing the cupboard with a flourish, proud of himself for not messing up this time "I expect it's as he says, just paying back a favour. Or transferring it to you I guess."

Hilda rolled her eyes, but didn't deny it. Claude grinned and came around, nudging her shoulder with his, until she stood upright again and followed his lead back to the lounge.

"I guess I'll need to go home tomorrow… check on everything." She said at last, sinking down into the couch again.

Claude hummed "You could." He agreed. "Or, you can hide out here one more day and we'll swing by your place the day after on our way up to see Marianne and Lorenz. I think we can trust a friend of Balthus's to lock up after herself."

Hilda considered, then nodded "Alright, one more day, then… then I guess I have to pick myself up and be an adult again."

"You're doing just fine at that already, Hils." Claude replied, readying the next bottle of wine; prepared to match her drink for drink as long as she needed the company. "I on the other hand will actually have to spend some time tomorrow being a working adult. If we're going to be seeing Lorenz I should probably actually finish my review of The Rose."

~o~*~o~

Across the river and down a ways, Byleth Eisner found herself deciphering some unfortunately vague instructions from Balthus and locating her hostess's hidden spare key after what could only have been two minutes, but felt like an hour in the rain. She squelched her way inside the apartment, toeing off shoes and socks in the entryway and hoping they would be dry enough to comfortably put back on in the morning, but mostly grateful she had a dry and quiet space for herself for the night.

A beading project had been left out on a coffee table, but otherwise her hostess's main room, an open-plan kitchen/lounge, was immaculate. All other beads, threads, crystals, silver wires and sundry crafting tools and materials were sorted and put away in neatly stacked cases to one side. The white walls and few house-plants providing a perfect backdrop for accessory photo-shoots, or so Balthus had told her, and Byleth believed it, choosing to use a cushion and throw already on the couch as bedding rather than venture any further into the apartment to find a spare duvet or pillow and risk interfering with the system clearly in place.

If she had, she might have taken note of the many, many photographs of her friends Hilda had lining the walls of her hallway.