"I don't want to take anymore." Zoe didn't hide the whine. It was just on the edges of her voice, and she tried to hide under the additional blankets. Maybe she could will this crazy illness out. At least when she was a zombie she didn't just roll over and die; actually, if she understood zombies, she had done some of that. She'd taken a few down with her though. This, this was pathetic.
"When I felt at odds with my body, Mama gave me broth. Didn't happen often. Life in space wasn't perfect; my first time planet side I didn't walk straight, and my stomach kept pitching." She smiled a little. She'd lived her early life on a ship, born and raised, and she'd listened to children older than her who suggested she walk a particular way to keep from falling off. It was silly, but she'd been little at the time.
"Chicken and stars." He was giving her the stars. Something about it brought tears to her eyes. She did miss the stars sometimes, being in the black. She liked having land beneath her feet, but the black was a part of her.
"I'm fine, just sick." Her hand snaked out of the blankets, offering to hold his for a moment, at least pat his leg. "You afraid someone's coming for me?" She knew of at least one person in the City who might. "Or you just naturally think someone might break in?"