She blinked.
"Was I? What are you talking about?"
She finally met his gaze fully.
For one, she looked… tired.
"Never mind."
He glanced down at the tray of soup on his lap.
He was going to manage all by himself. The last thing he wanted was to be fed by her.
"Someone once told me that it is very difficult for me to ask for help… why does that suddenly come to mind in a situation like this?" She said in a slightly sing-song voice, ambling to where the desk was and plopping down on it with a creak.
So, she had no intentions of leaving him? Did she really want to watch him battle with a spoon?
"I thought a woman," he coughed. "as sophisticated as you would have much better pastimes than watching a sick man feed himself."
"You might be interested to know that I have the oddest pastimes."
He narrowed his eyes at her.
"Interest me, then."
She picked a book from the neat stack on the desk and flipped through the pages.
