"More than you hate being sick?" Patience asked. Eventually, she would insist, but she didn't have to do that now. Maybe it was just one of those twenty-four hour bugs, and would pass on its own. Her brow furrowed at the complaint about the scent of her tea, though. Ginger was a strong smell, it was true, but it had hardly even had a chance to steep. "Try not to breathe in through your nose while you drink," she suggested, instead.