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“You didn’t have to come, sir.”
A scoff. An upward tick of lips. The fabric of his shirt rustles when he shakes his head dismissively. The chair beside your bed he inhabits creaks as he props his ankle across on his knee, feigning regality and poise.
“And you didn’t have to get sick.”
Scoff. “Yeah. Because I wanted to. Walked around licking doorknobs and toilet seats to get a break away from my whip-cracking boss.”
A half-hearted shrug. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Or the one where Sylus' favorite person gets sick.
Sylus x Chauffer!Reader/You