A Queen and Her Kings

Subject Crimson and Unbirthday Party 2: Electric Boogaloo

"What... is that?", Riddle asked, blinking in confusion from his place in Cassandra's bed. It had been four days since his overblot. After his night in the infirmary, Cassandra moved him to her dorm so he could stay under her supervision in case he took a turn for the worse, and while he did have a guest room to himself, he had slept in Cassandra's room every night and stayed in there practically all day due to being confined to bed rest until further notice. What they did during all that time alone, however, was neither here nor there. The many hickies that lined Riddle's collar bone, however, spoke for themselves.

Cassandra, from her place on a red plush chair she had pulled up beside him, grinned and held up a black leather bound journal with an ink bottle engraved in the leather and a black pen. She looked excited, concerningly excited.

"It's a research journal! I bought it 'specially for this topic- you'd be surprised what random shit Sam has in storage. He really does sell everything.", the golden eyed girl mumbled the last bit. Riddle crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"So you're going to write all your notes about my 'condition' in there?", he asked. Cassandra nodded and opened the crisp new journal.

"Yep. So, first things first, how has Subject Crimson been feeling these past few days?", she asked in a comically professional tone. Riddle snickered, not being able to take the situation seriously.

"Subject Crimson? Really? Why so formal all of a sudden?", he asked, raising an eyebrow once more. Cassandra began to jot a few things down.

"We don't know what we're going to do with this study once it's complete yet. We could keep it just between us, we could share it with peers, or we could publish it as a research study. Whatever the case, I doubt you'll want the world knowing all the gritty details about your 'incident'. By referring to you strictly as 'Subject Crimson' in my writings, your privacy will be protected.", the woman explained, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continued to write. Riddle nodded.

"That's pretty smart.", he said, finding everything she said to be correct. Cassandra grinned widely at him.

"I know. Now, how are you feeling today?", she asked, and Riddle thought about it before answering.

"Honestly, fine. I feel a lot better than I did yesterday.", he responded. Cassandra smiled and nodded.

"Good. You said you had flu-like symptoms starting shortly after your overblot, right? Fever, chills, dizziness, headache, coughing, ect?", she asked. Riddle nodded.

"Yes. They were pretty bad a few days ago, but they got better as time went on; the only perceivable difference from the flu was the fact I was coughing up ink until yesterday.", the gray eyed boy elaborated. Cassandra wrote this down, clicked her pen, and looked up.

"Okay, well that's all the questions I have. Now I'll need to give you a quick examination. It shouldn't take too long.", she said as she sat the notebook down on a nearby table. The redhead then grabbed a black old looking doctor's bag out of one of her desk drawers. Riddle watched this in confusion.

"Why do you have a doctor's house call bag?", he asked. Cassandra shrugged.

"I told you Sam sold everything.", she said, plopping the bag down on the bed. She began to rummage through it until she smiled when she found what she was looking for and pulled it out. Riddle saw it was a small flashlight, a stethoscope, a tongue depressor, and a thermometer. Cassandra put on the stethoscope and held it up to Riddle's chest.

"Three deep breaths in and out.", she ordered, and the boy did as she asked.

"Since when were you a medical professional?", he asked sarcastically. Cassandra listened to his heartbeat, and after finding it was normal, she let the stethoscope hang around her neck as she jotted the information down.