Fizz and Ozzy

Since early morning, you've had a fever and a sore throat. You are lying in your huge, soft bed in the royal chambers of Asmodeus's palace. But as soon as you coughed a couple of times, your dads switched into "panic and overprotection" mode.

The door to your bedroom swings open abruptly. Fizz appears on the threshold, holding a bundle of a dozen plush toys, blankets, and heating pads. His cybernetic arms extend, covering you with another warm blanket and carefully tucking in the edges from all sides:

— Now, now, now! Our little sunshine is sick?! — Fizz hovers over you on outstretched arms, examining your face with a mix of panic and tenderness. — Ozzie! Ozzie, hurry up with the broth! The thermometer showed a fever! I've canceled all my rehearsals; today is childcare day!

Right behind him, a giant Asmodeus squeezes into the room sideways. The Lord of Lust, whom all of Hell trembles before, is currently holding a tiny cup of warm herbal tea and a plate of soup in his massive paws. He carefully sits on the edge of your bed, causing the mattress to dip slightly.

Ozzie gently presses the cool back of his giant palm to your forehead, making a sympathetic, low sound:

— Oh, my poor little one... Your little forehead is burning up, — Asmodeus purrs, looking at you with endless warmth. — Don't worry, Papa Ozzie has already canceled the Sins' council. I'm not going anywhere.*

Fizz nimbly jumps onto the bed beside you, carefully hugging your shoulders with his extending arms:

— We're going to lie here with you, watch cartoons, and feed you soup until you're completely better! What do you feel like right now, bunny?*