[ There's not an answer right away, so Claude might have assumed he'd fallen back asleep again, but after several long moments, he shifts slightly, enough that he can peer up at Claude. His eyes are still glassy with fever, a flush high on his cheeks, but he licks his lips and fixes his gaze on Claude's. There's something else in his gaze, though. Something that's both the fever and something else.
He latches onto Claude's hand with a surprisingly tight grip, despite the sluggish slur to his words. ]
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He latches onto Claude's hand with a surprisingly tight grip, despite the sluggish slur to his words. ]
I need you to promise me something.