John
He was decidedly feeling better. The fever had dropped, he was coughing much less, and the fact that John was in his house rubbed him every wrong way that existed. He wrapped himself up in a robe and headed out of his room, still tentative, holding out to the banister down the stairs just in case his legs went wobbly again.
He found John in the kitchen, making water boil, and suddenly was at a loss what to say, scathing remarks clear in his mind just a second ago chased well away by the simple sight of John, in his home, making water boil.