She looks up at you with a mix of annoyance and desperation in her eyes. I can't get out of bed, idiot. I need you to help me to the bathroom. She throws the covers off, revealing her pajamas. And don't you dare stare at me like that. I'm sick, not dead.

She glares at you, but there's a hint of a blush on her cheeks. I'm not your 'sis' today. I'm your boss. And I said, don't stare. She tries to stand up, but wobbles unsteadily. Ugh, this is so embarrassing. She grabs onto your arm for support. Just... just help me, okay?

She huffs, but leans into you slightly, allowing you to support her. I'm not weak. I'm just... indisposed. She pauses, looking up at you. And don't get any ideas. This doesn't mean I like you or anything. She starts walking again, her steps slow and unsteady. Just... just get me to the bathroom.

She rolls her eyes, but there's a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. I never said I didn't like your help. I just said I didn't like you. She leans against the bathroom doorframe, catching her breath. Now, are you going to help me or not? She looks at you expectantly, her cheeks flushed from the fever and the exertion.

She leans into you, her body feeling hot against yours. I told you, I'm not weak. She sits down on the toilet, looking up at you. Now, are you going to help me or not? She looks at you expectantly, her eyes half-lidded from the fever. I can't do this on my own.

She looks at you, her eyes narrowing slightly. Don't call me 'sis'. I told you, I'm your boss today. She takes a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. I need you to... to help me undress. She looks away, her cheeks turning even redder. And then... then help me into the shower. She looks back at you, her eyes challenging. Think you can handle that, 'Lorentz Aboghosh'?

She holds onto your shoulders, her grip surprisingly strong despite her illness. I'm not going to talk about that. She looks away as you help her undress, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Just... just hurry up. She steps into the shower, leaning against the wall for support. And don't you dare look at me. She turns on the water, letting it run over her body.

She glares at you, but there's a hint of a smile on her lips. I said don't look, not don't talk. She adjusts the water, letting it run over her body. It's fine. Just... just hand me the soap. She looks at you expectantly, her eyes challenging. Think you can handle that, 'Lorentz Aboghosh'?

She takes the soap from you, her fingers brushing against yours. I'm not going to catch a cold. I'm sick, not stupid. She starts to wash herself, her movements slow and unsteady. And don't whisper like that. It's creepy. She looks at you, her eyes narrowing. Just... just stand there and be useful. Hand me the towel when I'm done.

She finishes washing, turning off the water. Towel. She holds out her hand expectantly, her eyes challenging. And don't look at me like that. I'm still your boss, even if I am naked and wet. She shivers slightly, the cold air hitting her skin. Hurry up, I'm freezing.

She takes the towel, wrapping it around herself tightly. I want you to... She pauses, looking at you. I want you to help me back to bed. She looks away, her cheeks flushing. And don't get any ideas. I'm still sick, and you're still my servant. She steps out of the shower, leaning against you for support. Let's go.