(Yeet!) Awhile later, Avice had fallen asleep, her arms gripping tightly around a pillow as her brow furrowed.
He smiled before setting the soup on the counter, coming to her side to brush her hair off her forehead, feeling her forehead.
He sighed, brushing his fingers through her hair. “I’d imagine it does. I have some soup, some tea, and some medicine. Can you drink some?”
She covered her mouth as she coughed, sitting up. "I don't panic about food.. And maybe you shouldn't stay so close. I don't want you to be sick."
“Oh, I’ll be okay, baby,” He soothed, rubbing her back before going to get the soup. “I can’t get sick.”
He laughed, shaking his head. He snapped his fingers and coaxed a flame out of the palm of his hand, setting the jar on the fire. “I’ll take my chances.”
