Brady
The lumbering Russian shakily placed his cell phone on the floor next to his bed. He was so cold, yet his skin felt as though it was on fire. He hated asking for help, and had actually expected the Sam guy to say no after he mentioned his weight. He was shocked to see him tell him that he was coming, and so it was with unsteady legs that the large kid stood. 

He got dressed, his body racking itself shivering due to the perceived chill in the room. Pants, socks, boots, shirt (the very nice brown long-sleeve that his dad gave him), it took longer than it should have and Vizhkir hated it. 

He collapsed onto his bed after having cracked his door, curling up into a large ball with his blankets pulled snugly over his body.
Terry
Sam knocked. He'd thought about studying medicine once, this would probably be the closest he ever got. He looked through the crack, , preferably for something to help lift the guy, although he *Had* Come up with a plan if need be, it just... Wasn't the best plan. He thought about just calling the front desk, but he still didn't trust these people further than he could throw them. Regardless, probably best to do introductions first, make it clear he's *Not* A serial killer that's somehow gotten in. 

"Hello?" Anyone in there?"
Brady
A dry cough jostled the body of poor Vizhkir as his delirious sleep was interrupted. His head poked out from his pile as he got his feet beneath his slowly. It took great effort, but before long he stood. Slowly creeping to the doorway he leaned on the frame and opened the door the rest of the way. 

"Yes?" Asked the Russian. His voice was soft and horse, he looked awful. His normally pale skin was ashen, covered with sweat. Below his bloodshot eyes were dark semi-circles. All in all, he looked horrible. Like a Deadman walking.
Terry
Sam looked at how horrible vizhkir looked, a double-take quickly following. He backed up slightly, now not exactly sure if he should expose himself to... Whatever the hell his new friend has. He was no doctor, but he was pretty damn sure your skin wasn't supposed to be that shade of gray, even by parahuman standards. 

"Are you sure I shouldn't just call like the front desk, or I dunno, an ambulance? You look absolutely awful."

*Sam would quickly put on one of the masks he had brought, before slapping a sign on the door*