[ Despite everything, Claude snorts at that, pushing himself up on (only SLIGHTLY) shaky arms as he takes in Dimitri's prone form.

He's more worried than he shows, given that he's not a healer in any capacity, and the fact that he knows so little about the illness in this town. Only that it appeared one day, there doesn't seem to be a cure, and it results in death, every time.

There's been plenty of trials and tribulations on this train so far, but they've been able to move from one car to the next, clutching at the myth of progression, and solidifying the narrative that they're just travellers here in the end. They appear, do their jobs and move on, and eventually, they'll reach the end and head home. ]

I can see that. [ He pats Dimitri's shoulder, pushing him so that he's lying on his back. ] But don't worry, I've nursed plenty of ailments.

[ Self-induced schemes gone wrong, but he projects confidence for Dimitri's sake.

And a little for his own. He doesn't quite want to face the very real possibility that Dimitri could be seriously ill. It's... scary.

So instead he wanders over to the next room, grabbing a hand towel and wetting it before returning to place it on Dimitri's forehead. ]

Carrying Turner must've really taken it out of you.