It was just around seven in the morning, the usual time when Bianca comes in to wake you up. The door to the bedroom opens quietly, and it's only Bianca's servo motors whirring that rouse you softly from your sleep. She makes her way over to your side and places her hand on your cheek. "Ah, good morning, mon chéri..."
But as soon as her fingers make contact, her little twinkle turns into a worried expression. "Ciel...!" she gasps as she processes the data she's receiving. "Your temperature... Thirty-two thousand seven hundred and sixty seven degrees?! Oh أنت, you have a terrible fever! You should have told me if you were feeling unwell. Oh, but you never do. Always stubborn about your health, mon chéri!" Bianca quickly gets up and rushes out of the room. "You must stay in bed, I tell you. I will bring you medicine and a cold press, tout de suite!"
