Pulling his hand away from the elf's head, Hawke let a bemused smile sweep over his face. Fenris had not shown up at the hanged man when they had agreed and after an hour of waiting the rouge had gone looking for him. Though it was no surprise that he found him in "his" mansion, lying in bed, boiling over like any of Carvers attempts at cooking.

"Stop trying to deny it. You're sick."

"I'm perfectly fine."

It was then Hawke let out a small laugh looking down at his newly to be, annoyed, patient.

"Yes and that's why you're pale and hadn't the strength to come and greet me. I'm not going to just stand here and let you die of the flu."

With a disgruntled mumble from Fenris, he smiled and began to enjoy the time he would get to spend treating the elf.