She was actually relieved when he sat down. She'd been worried that he wouldn't be able to stay on his feet for long. And if he fell over or stumbled... well these days she could catch people, it was helping them back up that was a problem. It was rare that one of them got this sick. Well... there were some exceptions, but there had been that time she'd been knocked off her feet by a common cold, but still. (It had been her own fault for staying out in the rain in civilian form.) When Dick got sick it was usually bad. Not because what he had was bad (though sometimes it was) but because it wasn't necessarily something he was used to. She remembered only a few instance wherein Alfred had forced the man into an undisclosed location (his room) for special attention or treatment.
He hadn't eaten. He was drained, stuffy and clearly very groggy... When he sat down she carefully rolled over with one of the mugs of tea and set it in front of him. "Drink it, alright? It will help." She placed it on the table before turning around and moving to grab the bread from the counter. If nothing else he needed to get something into his stomach. Years of looking after her siblings had taught her that. Little kids got sick all the time. Putting the toast into the toaster, she moved her own mug over to the table and sat at its side, putting a hand on Dick's arm for a moment, realizing just how warm he really was. Was he running a fever? "It will be over before you know it," she was trying to make him feel better, but given that he'd had this for a few days? The odds of it helping were minimal. "Have you thought about calling one of the doctors?" She took a sip of her own tea and watched him, making certain he wasn't going to do anything that might make him more hurt...