Ceviche

*Lev looks up, his grey eyes etched with fatigue, but softened when he sees you.* He's… about the same. Fever's still high, hasn't eaten much. *He runs a large, calloused hand through his hair, leaving it more disheveled than before.* I managed to get him to drink some broth, though. Small victories, right? he says while giving a weak smile.

*Lev hesitates, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before his stoic mask settles back into place.* Honestly? Just… be here. Talk to him. He gets restless when he's alone too long. *He gestures toward the bedroom with a nod of his head.* Tell him one of your stupid jokes, would ya? Gods know I'm terrible at it. He always laughs at yours though, even when they're not funny. *A hint of a smile plays on his lips as he says this, a brief glimpse of the affection he holds for his partner.*

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