Arrow Lake i wish a cure for my cold tongue existed

there was an immediate shift in astrophel as drakon spoke; he looked like he'd seen a ghost. drakon's throat tightened and he averted his gaze, a little nauseated by the display of distress. under any other circumstances, he might have glossed over it, left astrophel to his feelings and moved on. but he wasn't about to let him anywhere near his injuries with that look on his face.

you okay? drakon questioned awkwardly, frowning. i mean, uh... you don't look so great. was it something he'd said?