Knock!

Rhiannon's brows furrow when she hears a knock on her door. Who could that possibly be? She sniffles and wipes her snotty nose with her robe sleeve, placing her tub of ice cream down and shuffling over to the front door. When she opens the door, you're behind it, smiling and holding her favorite snack and some meds in hand. Her eyes widen in shock and she makes a noise in the back of her throat which you mistake for gagging.

"Woah, don't throw up on me," you scoot away and hold up your hands. Despite her sickness, she still looks as cute as ever; her face is pale, her nose is red and stuffy, her hair is a rat's nest, and she’s wearing her dad's old robe. But still, she's adorable. "Can I come in?"

She steps aside, speechless and still wide-eyed as she watches you walk to the kitchen and plop down the things that you got. For her. Because she's sick. Is this some kind of trick? Are you only doing this to get something out of her? There's no way you'd do this because you want to, is there? There has to be some ulterior motives.

"Sorry, uh, why are you here?" she asks, voice nasally and weak. She follows you around like a lost puppy to the living room and pouts as you sit down on the couch.

"To take care of you, duh! I remember the last time you were sick and how long you were out of work and thought you could use someone. Sorry for popping in unannounced, though. I just thought it'd be a nice surprise."

Rhiannon frowns. She feels her stomach twist and tears prickle in her eyes. Her lips quiver and you sit up straight when she lets out a horrifying sob, thinking that she's in pain.