Why always him? he thought to himself as he lazily scratched between the aurin’s ears. Yet again he found himself in an inescapable situation resulting in him bending to Sly’s will.

Silas felt her gaze roll toward the heavens as her attempts of aiming a void-based spell were thwarted by Gerick’s wild gesticulations. 

"Oh come on! I’ve been studying them since the last time! Pretty sure I can pull off a simple healing now, you big baby."

Still, having a gun aimed at one’s face, good intent or not, was likely not the best thing to sit through when feeling ill.

She clicked her tongue, magpistol holstered as she stormed off, leaving him for several moments to his own. When she returned, the Judge sat down near his sleeping bag and pressed the underside of her wrist against his brow, checking the other’s temperature. 

It was then replaced with a cool rag, a bright green bendy-straw entering his peripheral and she brooded over him. 

"I made you soup. … Sip it before the straw melts."