She finally looked away from him, needing to do that, and decided that checking the food situation was an effective use of time. He didn't have much in the cupboards or the refrigerator. It was something that didn't surprise her, but it didn't make her happy either. On the other hand with what they'd been through in the last couple of weeks, who had time to shop? But before too long she was looking at him again over her shoulder. He didn't look good and he sounded even worse. She could only imagine how he felt...
She turned around in the chair again and shook her head as if to disagree. "I really don't care if I get sick," she said it like she had so many times before. "If it happens, it happens. Not like I really go anywhere anyway." She could still do her thing if she got it. Right now he was her concern. Him and his fuzzy and very much stuffed up head.
The kettle started to go off, and Barbara moved to switch off the stove. Putting a teabag in each of the mugs waiting, she poured the water before replacing the kettle and letting the tea sit. She saw that he was looking out the window, and she knew where his mind was. It wasn't uncommon. When she was starting out she'd gotten the flu and had been out for two whole weeks, every minute her mind had been out there, where she thought she should be, instead of on he recovery... Alfred had given her what for for that one. But he wasn't here. She didn't have to tell him anything, he was here, inside, and he knew that he was grounded - metaphorically.
She was worried. But to say that would seem a nag, and that wasn't what she wanted. It wouldn't help things. "When I was sick, mom used to make me hold the tea under my nose to help clear it out," she said with a small smile. This was her birth mother, not her aunt/adopted mother. It explained the tea. "Have you been able to get anything down today?" She was worried about his well being and had seen the bread next to the fridge. Toast might be at hand.