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"I will never eat anything ever again." Charles Augustus Milverton moaned when he lay back on the bed again and closed his eyes. Ruskin put the bowl away his employer just finished vomiting into. It was the third bowl that evening - but it seemed that the food poisoning that Mr. Milverton got at the carnival that he visited to make a report was more serious than as the doctor told. Ruskin was unsure whether it was a good idea to let his employer stay at home and shouldn't he take him to the hospital instead.
"You will get better soon, sir." He tried to comfort the other man and hoped that Mr. Milverton could finally rest - but his employer started gagging again a moment later, so Ruskin needed to take action again.
"It's fine... it's fine." Ruskin kept repeating while Mr. Milverton threw up. It hurt to see his employer's suffering, especially that he didn't know how he could make him feel better. He couldn't even give the medicine to Mr. Milverton yet, since it would have not stayed in his stomach. All he could do was to hold the bowl and when Mr. Milverton was done, he swept the hair out of his face and began to wipe down his lips with a rag.
"Maybe I should take you to the hospital, sir, despite what the doctor said." Ruskin brought it up in a calm voice. "There, you can get more help..."
"Your help is enough for me." Mr. Milverton cut into Ruskin speech. "I don't want anyone else to see me in this state. The King of Media, Charles Augustus Milverton's next report should be about food poisoning. I can imagine the title of the article." He weakly shook his head. "And I can't even look into the eyes of my next blackmail victims. After that news, no one would take me seriously."
Ruskin gently patted his employer's hand.
"Everyone gets food poisoning sometimes." He tried to reassure the man.
"I should have not gotten it." Mr. Milverton murmured and he got the urge to vomit again. Ruskin sighed while he held the bowl. The fourth one this evening.
"But your state really concerns me, sir." Ruskin said silently when Mr. Milverton finished. "I don't want you to have complications."
"Ruskin..." Mr. Milverton glanced at his secretary. "Let me stay. I don't think I can handle being put in a moving car." He noted and Ruskin needed to agree with his employer. It is better to not do anything until Mr. Milverton's stomach calms down. He would just put his employer through more suffering any other way.
He gave in and nodded.
"Fine. But if you don't get better, I will bring you to the hospital." He stated vehemently.
"You told me that I will get better." Mr. Milverton grimaced and quietly asked. "Can you give me a little water?"
Ruskin was happy hearing the order. He took up the glass from the bedside cupboard and brought it to his employer's mouth.
"Here, sir." He said while he gave Mr. Milverton a little drink. He was relieved to see that his employer was able to swallow the water, even if only a sip. Maybe he will truly not need further medical help and Ruskin can stop worrying.
But not completely.
"The taste in my mouth... It is horrible." Mr. Milverton noted when he finished drinking. "I need to ruin the street food maker who did this to me." His eyes maliciously glowed up before he settled in the bed again.
Ruskin hid his smile.
"I don't doubt, sir, that you will." He told his employer in a tender voice. If Mr. Milverton was already thinking of ruination, then it was the sign of recovery.