Capochin can only sniffle miserably in response. He hates being ineffectual, incapable. He's a Bizzyboy, cobdammit! He's supposed to be unstoppable! He sure as Drain didn't get here by being weak enough to get laid low by a stupid little cold.

But... it is nice to be cared for. The allure of being doted on quells his frustration. Especially by Hector. The sort of attention that would make a younger Capochin giddy.

(Okay, maybe somewhere in the cracked and aging recesses of Capochin's battered heart, he's still a little bit giddy even now. But no one gets to see that. That's between Capochin and the gods.)

"If ya say so," he finally mutters. "As soon as I start feelin' better, I'm gettin' back to it."