The Sannin began coughing violently right in the middle of writing a scroll. He groaned and attempted to ignore it, but it returned twice as bad. After seeing blood in his hand, he furrowed his brows in agitation and called for Kabuto in a raspy voice - raspier than normal. He shouldn’t be coughing like this so early.
In the silence of the dank and dimly lit hideout, Orochimaru’s dreadful coughing traveled all the way to Kabuto’s room; he’d been sorting through his tools, but immediately dropped his work and grabbed a small supply. He remembered, as well, to grab a pot of tea on the way. Just as his name passed the sannin’s lips, he was at the door to Orochimaru’s room.
“Lord Orochimaru…” he muttered in concern as he approached, setting the supplies on the small desk closest to the door before cautiously running a hand over the older’s back and analyzing the situation. There was blood contrasting brightly to Orochimaru’s pale skin in his hand- definitely not a good thing. He went to the teapot, added a dose of medicine to a cup, and poured the lord a glass and returned to him. “When you’re calm enough, please, take this…”