You are burning up. [Sherwood exaggerates, but given Fuuta's state of fluster, he's sure he'll get away with it. He isn't actually a doctor, but he will not be out-bullshitted, that's for sure.]

Perhaps that is true where you are from, but not here. I've been given clear directions and it would be irresponsible to set you free. [the hand that Fuuta bat away from his forehead just dips beneath the young man's chin and tickles clothed fingertips along his throat. If he was holding back the urge to cough, that's probably going to jolt the impulse from him,]

I suppose I could be convinced to make accommodations... if you have proof of someone ready and waiting to treat you, and promptly upon your leave.