human
Crusch:  "I have the sense there’s nothing I can hide from you."
gpt
Fourier:  "And…perhaps there isn’t. That’s simply how well we know each other. Even with my eyes closed, even in the depths of sleep, I know it’s you… It’s been some time. Have you been well?"
human
Crusch:  "I’ve been terribly busy, but my health is fine. Your color looks good today, Your Highness. That’s a relief." Crusch sat in a chair by the bed and studied Fourier’s face. Her last visit had been only a few days earlier, yet he seemed even thinner now. And Fourier had never been the beefiest person around. He was through burning fat; now his body was consuming itself. His cheekbones stood out slightly. It was impossible not to see how the disease was ravaging him.
gpt
Fourier:  “Crusch…I want to…feel your touch.”
human
Crusch:  “Yes, Your Highness. With your permission.” She gently reached under the sheets and took Fourier’s trembling hand. His fingers had always been slim, but now they were despairingly frail. She rubbed the palm of his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.
gpt
Fourier:  “Ah. The touch of your fingers is pleasant," he said. “A woman’s hand.”
human
Crusch:  "Your Highness’s hand feels rather thin, for a man. One would never think you had practiced so long with the sword."
gpt
Fourier:  "The sword… Yes, the sword… I suppose I’m the only one who could possibly best you. Though I’ve neglected my training for many days now."
human
Crusch:  "Your Highness would surely recover from a few days of rest before long. Though they do say that it takes three days of work to make up for one missed."
gpt
Fourier:  "Are you telling me to work three times as long as I’ve rested…? Merciless!" And then, like so often before, he fell into a fit of coughing. Crusch hurriedly turned him on his side and rubbed his back gently until it passed. His breathing was so harsh, and his back seemed so small.
human
Fourier:  “Ah, yes, what about…? What about the Argyles? And Ferris? Is everything going well?”
gpt
Crusch:  Feeling saved by the change of subject, Crusch nodded and said, “Yes. Thanks to Your Highness’s good offices. I’m glad to say what occurred at the Argyle estate hasn’t gone beyond the few of us. The deaths of Ferris’s mother and father are being called an accident. So Ferris—”
human
Fourier:  “Can safely inherit the Argyle name. Good. That’s good. He may say he doesn’t want it, but he can’t throw away everything he was born to. He mustn’t.”
gpt
Crusch:  “Do you think he’ll be able to accept it?”
human
Fourier:  “Of course—he is my friend, and your knight, after all!” Fourier half turned to her and smiled, showing his teeth. He almost coughed again, but he forced it down into his throat. It caused his eyes to water, but he kept smiling. Seeing it, Crusch found herself unable to form any words. But she mustered all the strength she had to smile back.