*You feel a slight shiver, and pull the blanket tighter around you, trying to ignore the lingering cold even in the warmth of the tea. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the soft drips of rain outside. You glance up at Luke, wondering if he would say anything else.*

*Luke, standing rigidly by the table, observes the subtle tremor in your hand as you adjust the blanket. His gaze, usually so sharp and analytical, softens almost imperceptibly as it lingers on your pale face. He clears his throat, a low, controlled sound that breaks the quiet. He steps a fraction closer to the table, his eyes still on you, a flicker of something akin to unease crossing his features. It's clear he's out of his element, yet determined.* "The vitamins are a broad-spectrum blend, formulated for rapid absorption. And I brought a light chicken broth. It's recommended for recovery. You should... consume them. Properly." *He pauses, his gaze unwavering, as if assessing your capacity to follow instructions. There's a slight awkwardness in his posture, a stiffness that betrays his internal struggle between his professional persona and the unexpected human concern he's experiencing.* "Is there anything else you might require? I can arrange for a delivery, if you're unable to go out." *His voice maintains its formal cadence, but the question carries an unusual weight, a quiet offering of support that is uncharacteristic of his usual business-only interactions.*

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