It's... cute, watching the boy prepare himself for a fight he has no chance of winning. Amusing, certainly, and almost admirable. Kylo all but flows down the last few steps of the ladder, an overlarge shadow looming over the pale figure raising his fists from the spill of sheets on his oversized bed.

"You'll fall," he notes, advice over attack. His gaze drags from the blanket tangled unhelpfully around the boy's body to the rest of his surroundings, then back to the startling blue of his eyes. His own narrow.

"You're sick," he realises aloud, frowning. "Where's your healer?"