Seth pressed his ear against the door, listening to the little Mixed Breed's incessant coughing from inside. Worried something was wrong, he kept knocking and asking how it was doing.
"What's wrong?"
Just then, Jite walked over, carrying a backpack.
"I don't think it's doing well." Seth glanced at the stuffed, off-white backpack in Jite's hands. "What's that?"
"The little boss's things." Jite joined him, pressing his ear to the door to listen to the sounds inside. After a moment, he gripped the doorknob, about to push his way in.
"What are you doing?" Seth grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "The boss said we should just stand guard out here."
Jite retorted, "And if it dies in there, we just keep standing guard?"
Seth was taken aback by his words. "It won't die, will it? Mixed Breeds aren't that weak. It's just a fever. Let's wait a little longer. It'll come open the door."
Even as he said it, he was still worried. But barging in like this might startle it.
