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He's doing a pretty good job of hiding it right up until, apparently, he isn't.
"For the tenth time," Edgin says, "I am not sick."
Xenk doesn't look up from where he's brewing some concoction in Edgin's kitchen. It looks—quite frankly—terrifying. It's green. Edgin's pretty sure it shouldn't be green, though actually, he's not really sure what colour it should be either.
"It is the eleventh time, and you are, as you would say, quite under the weather," Xenk says evenly, which would be utterly adorable if he wasn't, you know, calling Edgin a liar.
On two accounts.
He flops down into one of the kitchen chairs. "Oh sure," he grumbles. "You'll listen to my lessons on colloquialisms but not when I tell you I'm not sick?"
Xenk is silent for a moment before finally looking over at Edgin quizzically. "Why are you so insistent on denying the truth?" he asks.
Edgin glares at him. "You don't get it," he says. "I don't get sick. I can't get sick." If he gets sick, Holga will get that look in her eye like she's not sure what to do. He hates that look. It's one of the only times she ever looks like that. If he gets sick, Simon will run around trying to find spells to cure him until he's in a panic. Simon in a panic is scary.
If he gets sick, Kira will worry.
(Doric, at least, will just look at him and say "It sucks to be you." He can always count on Doric.)
"I see," Xenk finally says after a moment of silence. He doesn't say anything else, but those two words feel like maybe he really does see. Edgin wonders if Xenk ever gets sick, or if that's something paladins just—don't do.
He doesn't get to ask, because it appears Xenk is done making whatever he's making. He carefully pours it into one of Edgin's earthenware cups and carries it over to him.
"Is this going to kill me?" Edgin asks, peering into the cup.
"I have sworn an oath of devotion," Xenk says by way of answer.
"Yeah, yeah," Edgin sighs. "Help the innocent, uphold justice, etcetera etcetera." He peers suspiciously at Xenk. "I am innocent, and killing me is not justice," he reminds him grumpily.
Steeling himself, he takes a sip—and almost chokes on it in surprise. "This is amazing," he says once he's managed to actually swallow it. It tastes like sugar and sunlight. "What is this?"
"It is a recipe passed down to me by an old friend," Xenk says, and Edgin wants to ask more, but Xenk doesn't give him a chance. "And I have sworn an oath of devotion to you, Edgin Darvis."
This time Edgin really does choke. "Wait, what?"
"I have sworn to take care of you when you are too stubborn to take care of yourself, and to make sure that you never push yourself too far."
Edgin stares. "And, uh—when exactly did you swear that?"
"Three years ago," Xenk says, which—which explains a lot, in retrospect. "You needn't look so alarmed. I do not expect you to reciprocate with your own oath."
"Yeah," Edgin says faintly, feeling a bit like he's been hit over the head—though that may or may not be this blasted cold. "About that."
Xenk looks at him patiently, like he is in fact waiting for Edgin to tell him all about it.
Edgin sighs, but despite it, he feels more than a little bit like he's flying—and that's definitely not all because he's been feeling dizzy all day.
"Why don't you bring me another cup of this and we'll talk about just how much I do reciprocate," he finally says.
"Very well," Xenk says, and proceeds to do just that.