"Why didn't you have someone tell me you were this sick?"
Lancelot stood in the middle of the room, now shirtless, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Florian with clear concern.
After realizing it was Lancelot he had just thrown up on, Florian had panicked and dragged him straight into his room so no one in the hallway would see the situation.
The result was… this.
Lancelot without a shirt.
And Florian still pale and teary-eyed.
"If I told you," Florian said tiredly, wiping the corner of his eyes, "you would hover around me the entire time. You'd worry too much. And you might even tell… him."
He didn't say the name.
He didn't need to.
"And then he'd barge in here," Florian finished.
Heinz.
That was exactly who he meant.
Florian crossed his arms and gave Lancelot a pointed look.
"Let's be honest with each other. You're here because you're spying on me for him."
Lancelot sighed and placed a hand on his hip.
