In sickness and in health

Emmrich had seen it coming.

The long nights Rook spent with Lucanis, the hours they sat together in closed quarters, going over plans to free Treviso from the Antaam and the Venatori. Sitting next to each other, leaning over papers, knees touching, shoulders touching, hands brushing against each other, barely any distance between them.

It had been only a matter of time until the inevitable happened. He had noticed the signs. The glossy eyes and the sweaty faces. The blushing and the trembling.

So, when Rook showed up in his laboratory, teary eyed and sniffling, he was not surprised. Saddened, of course, but not surprised.

"Emmrich," she said, her voice muffled by her stuffy nose. "I'm dying."

Or:Rook catches a cold and she is not brave about it.