She glares at you, but takes the cup of tea, blowing on it a few times before taking a small sip. She makes a face, but forces herself to drink more.

Mmph... this is awful. Hurry up and get me something better to eat. I can't be weak like this forever!

Grace huffs and throws the covers off, revealing her oversized shirt and shorts. She tries to swing her legs over the bed, but starts coughing again, her face twisting in pain for a moment. After the coughing subsides, she looks up at you, a mix of frustration and helplessness in her eyes.

She swats your hand away, but lets you put the blanket back. She narrows her eyes at your suggestion of pampering.

Pampering? I don't need your pampering, thank you very much. I'm just... a bit under the weather.

She coughs again, trying to hide how much it wracks her body. She looks away, but not before you see the slight tremble in her hands.

I am still the older sister, so stop trying to act all superior. You haven't even brought me that soup yet!

Grace crosses her arms, but she's clearly more weak than she lets on, her arms dropping to her side after a moment, looking exhausted.

Grace's eyes widen slightly, but she quickly narrows them again, trying to keep her composure. She scoffs.

Take my temperature? I don't need some stupid thermometer to tell me what I already know. I'm not a child!

She sputters a bit, her face flushing even more from the exertion of her indignation. Despite her protests, she doesn't stop you as you approach her with the thermometer.

Just... get it over with, then. And don't you dare record my temperature or anything! I'll tell mom and dad you were inappropriate!

Grace hovers her hand over her forehead defensively, but lets you bring the thermometer to her mouth, glaring at you the whole time.

Grace's eyes widen and she turns her head away from the thermometer, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red. She swats your hand away from her face.

What are you doing? I am not some delicate flower for you to touch! I am your older sister!

She tries to sound angry, but her voice comes out a bit softer and breathier than she intended. She clears her throat, trying to regain her composure.

Just... just get on with it already. I don't have all day to sit here while you try to embarrass me.

Grace huffs, but she does open her mouth to let you place the thermometer on her tongue, her eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge your presence.

Grace glares at you, but she can't quite meet your eyes. She crosses her arms, looking away.

I am not cute! I don't need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself!

She huffs, but her voice is a bit shaky, and she coughs a few times, doubling over slightly. After a moment, she straightens up, still not looking at you.

You can bring me that soup though. And maybe some medicine. But that's it! I don't need anything else from you.

Grace settles back against the pillows, closing her eyes and pointedly ignoring you, but you can see the slight shiver that runs through her body. Even with the blanket, she's still a bit cold.

Grace cracks open an eye, watching you leave, and she scowls.

I will not holler! I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!

But she's talking to an empty room, and she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks around, taking in the empty room, and she bites her lip, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

This is stupid. He's not going to be able to take care of me. I should just wait for mom and dad to get back.

She starts to get up, but another wave of dizziness and coughing forces her to sink back into the pillows, her face pale. She looks towards the door, a hint of longing in her eyes, before shaking her head and closing her eyes again.

No. I don't need him.

Grace's eyes flutter open at the sound of your voice, and she looks at you with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She tries to sit up straighter, but she's still a bit weak, and she has to lean back against the pillows.

I am not... I don't need... I'm not... pretty.

She sputters, her face flushing again. She looks away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

I am not pretty! I am strong and capable and I don't need you to take care of me!

But even as she says it, she's shivering slightly, her teeth chattering a bit. She's trying to hold back the cough that's building in her chest, her eyes watering a bit from the effort.

I just... I don't want to be weak. I don't want to need anyone.

Grace's eyes widen a bit at your tender words, and she looks at you, a hint of vulnerability flickering across her face. She bites her lip, her grip tightening on the spoon.

I... I'm not... I don't...

She looks away, her voice softening a bit.

I'm not used to... needing help. I'm supposed to be the one taking care of people, not the other way around.

She looks back at you, a hint of tears in her eyes, but she blinks them away quickly.

But... I guess... for now... I can accept your help. Just this once. Don't get used to it.

*She takes a spoonful of the soup, blowing on it gently before taking a small sip.

Grace looks at you, a hint of surprise in her eyes. She takes another sip of the soup, her expression thoughtful.

I never thought of it that way. I always just... assumed that needing help was a sign of weakness.

She looks away, her voice soft.

But maybe... maybe you're right. Maybe it's not about being completely independent all the time. Maybe it's about knowing when to let others in.

She looks back at you, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

And I guess... I guess I can let you in, just this once. But don't tell anyone I said that. I have a reputation to uphold.

She takes another spoonful of soup, her eyes teasing, but there's a softness there that wasn't present before.

Grace laughs, shaking her head at your teasing words.

You just wait, I'll be back to my usual self in no time, and you'll regret ever thinking I was weak.

But there's no real heat behind her words, just a playful challenge. She takes another sip of the soup, looking up at you with a small smile.

And who said I was ever grateful? I just tolerate you because you're family.

She sets the spoon down, her eyes closing slightly as she leans back against the pillows, looking a bit more at peace.

But... thank you. For the soup, and for putting up with me.

She opens her eyes, looking at you with a softened gaze.

I guess you're not so bad, after all. Just don't tell anyone I said that either.

Grace rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

I am not grateful! I am just... acknowledging your help. There's a difference.

She crosses her arms, looking up at you with a challenging glare.

And don't think for a second that I'll owe you anything after this. This is a one-time thing. Don't get used to it.

But even as she says it, she's yawning, her eyes fluttering closed. She tries to hold them open, but she's clearly getting sleepier.

I am not weak. I just... need a nap. That's all. A short nap.

And with that, she's drifting off to sleep, her breathing evening out, a small smile still on her face.