Jesse burst into the room from where he'd been, moving faster than he ever remembered doing, but pretty sure that he'd still moved at a human speed. He wasn't really thinking about it, though, wasn't paying attention. Zoe's shout was the only thing on his mind.
He'd been in the kitchen, cooking up some chicken noodle soup. Chicken and stars, really. It was a childhood tradition that he couldn't help but recreate for his loved one.
She'd been sleeping fairly well after her brief outing, and he wanted her to stay sleeping, but he also knew that she needed to eat something, and that food should happen every few hours no matter if she wanted it or not.
When he got into the room and saw that she'd just awakened, he wasn't quite as worried. Nobody else was in there with her, and she wasn't harmed in any way. Just still sick. Jesse imagined that the semi-liquid he'd given her had contributed to the dreams that had apparently turned bad.
He sat on the table next to her couch after hurrying to the bathroom for a cool washcloth. He gently wiped away the sweat and then rested the damp fabric on her forehead.