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Summary
“I don’t get sick, Miss Mag’Nesson, this—” he gestures at his face, “tends to prevent that.”
“Well clearly you’re sick with something, asshole. So what, are ya broken? Has this ever happened before?” she asked bluntly.
Bolaire sighed in exasperation. “No, I’m not broken, trust me, I would know. I just… don’t understand. I’ve never felt like this before, it’s—“ he stopped to clear his tightening throat, “it’s awful. How do you all deal with sickness on a regular basis?”
“Well I wouldn’t say we deal regularly,” Hal corrected, “but if you’re not sick, why is this happening?”
Azune suddenly adopted a serious expression. He spoke.
“Do you think he’s been poisoned?”
OR!
A Bolaire sickfic!