Not talking while someone spoke at him was par for the usual course, Jude barely tempted to offer a name. It's enough effort to keep his head up, stimming between Robb's shoulder and the path ahead. For a cough, he swings it outward, all of his own manners focused on not getting any of this in Robb's face.

The worse it gets, the less he knows what it is. He can't recall picking it up from anyone, but he might have not known what to look for at the time.

The feast was only so many days ago. The changes only so many more before that. They've been gathered up trying to sort things out, and it's his first day out since falling ill. Swinging his head back out, he coughs up enough to ask, gasping, "Has anyone else--been sick?"