"Is he breathing properly?"

"I think he is."

"Damn. He looks better without his glasses."

"I think so too."

"Shh, he needs some rest, guys."

"Poor thing must be exhausted."

"Did anyone tell Headmaster Meris?"

"Sam's handling that."

"Has he moved at all since they brought him in?"

"Just mumbling sometimes. Something about a labyrinth."

"And leprechauns."

"I think he cursed death for some reason."

"Fever dreams, probably."

"Let him rest. Come on, let's give him some space."

"Someone should stay though."

"I'll take first watch."

"Wake me for second."

The door opened.

"Out! All of you muscle-brains, OUT!" Miss Thornheart's voice cut through the room like a thunder spell. "The boy needs rest, not an audience! He has severe fatigue, not a performance slot!"

"But Miss," Diana's voice cracked with emotion, "he felt so weak that he went hunting just to prove to us he was strong. How admirable..."

That's not what happened at all, Adom thought, maintaining his perfectly crafted fake sleep-breathing rhythm.

"I know, right?" Hugo's glasses clinked as he nodded. "Pushing himself so hard... reminds me of when I first started. Remember when I tried to lift that enchanted boulder?"

"The determination..." Phil whispered reverently.

"The spirit..." Harry added.

"The complete disregard for personal safety..." Petra finished.

Adom fought the urge to frown. They'd constructed an entire narrative in their heads and were now fully committed to it.

Miss Thornheart let out a long-suffering sigh. "You can all admire his supposed heroics when he's discharged. Now, out!"

"Yes, Miss Thornheart..." they chorused, shuffling towards the door.

"Thank you for taking care of him," Hugo said earnestly.

The club members shuffled out, murmuring promises to return with potions and fruits.

Adom cracked one eye open slightly - and immediately regretted it. Biscuit, Miss Thornheart's perpetually excited Sunhound, was staring right at him, tail beginning to wag. He snapped his eye shut, but could feel the dog's breath getting closer.

Don't bark. Don't bark. Don't bark.

"Biscuit. Come here, you silly thing," Miss Thornheart called.

The padding of paws moved away, and Adom heard the infirmary door finally close.

Miss Thornheart's long-suffering sigh followed them out.

After they left, Adom heard her mutter, "Biscuit, you almost gave him away." A pause. "And you, young man, can stop pretending to sleep now."

Biscuit's tail thumped against the floor in agreement.

Adom groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Sorry about that, Miss Thornheart."

"Well," she said, adjusting a potion bottle on the bedside table, "I suppose playing dead was easier than explaining to that lot that you weren't actually wrestling bears in the forest to prove your worth."

Biscuit waddled over and plopped his head on Adom's lap, drool already forming a small puddle on the white sheets.

"They're good kids," Adom sighed, absently scratching behind the dog's ears. "They just have a... unique way of showing it. I think."

"Unique is one word for it," Miss Thornheart snorted. "Last month they tried to sneak in an entire weight rack because one of their members had a cold. Said something about 'gains waiting for no virus.'"

"I can only imagine," Adom muttered, stroking Biscuit.