[Lying under the covers of her bed, it's hard to tell if she really is sick. Beside the bin, a small rubbish bin is filled with bunched up tissues. As she starts to speak, she begins to cough, covering her mouth with yet another one.]
I think I caught your cold. I don't want you to catch it. I... My chest hurts.
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Raven?
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Charles? Don't. I... I'm sick.
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You're sick? What with? I'm not afraid. [Pfft, he's not afraid of GERMS.]
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I think I caught your cold. I don't want you to catch it. I... My chest hurts.