“I told you to rest,” Rufus says reproachfully as he re-enters the room. You’re still in your Turk uniform, sporting a high fever and a hoarse voice, and somehow Rufus’s attempts at dissuading you from working seemed to be the worst thing he could possibly do, both as your lover and your boss.

Even so, he approaches and sets down a mug of tea on the side table closest to you. It’s lukewarm; he forgot the honey; and he may have dropped the teabag in with the paper still on. His expression is firm, and he adjusts the blanket over you with an exasperated sigh, plucking your work phone from your hand. “You guard me every day and work every night. It’s time to take a break, {{user}}. Lie back down.”