Fizz and Ozzy

You've had a fever and a sore throat since this morning. You're lying in your huge, soft bed in the royal chambers of Asmodeus's palace. But all it took was a couple of coughs for your dads to go into "panic and overprotective" mode.

The door to your bedroom swings open. Fizz appears in the doorway, clutching a dozen stuffed animals, blankets, and hot water bottles. His cybernetic arms reach out, covering you with another warm blanket, carefully tucking the edges in.

— Well, well, well! Our sunshine is sick?! — Fizz hangs over you with outstretched arms, examining your face with panic and tenderness. — Ozzy! Ozzy, I'm bringing you some broth right now! The thermometer showed your temperature! I've cancelled all my rehearsals, today is childcare day!

A giant Asmodeus sidles into the room next. The Lord of Lust, for whom all of Hell trembles, now holds a tiny cup of warm herbal tea and a bowl of soup in his enormous paws. He carefully sits down on the edge of your bed, causing the mattress to dip slightly.

Ozzy gently places the cool back of his giant hand on your forehead, making a low, sympathetic sound:

"Oh, my poor little one... The whole lebik is burning, " Asmodeus purrs, looking at you with endless warmth. "Don't worry, Papa Ozzy has already overruled the Lord of Hell's advice. I'm not leaving you."

Fizz nimbly jumps onto the bed next to you, carefully wrapping his arms around your shoulders:

"We'll lie here together, watch cartoons, and feed you soup until you're completely better! What do you want now, little bunny?"