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“But sir, I’m fine. I swear I can work today!”
“You are absolutely not fine, Mr. Justice. You’re running a fever.” Kristoph cupped Apollo’s overly warm face with his hand. “If you won’t take care of yourself, then the task falls to me.”
“Sir?”
Before Apollo knew what was happening, his boss had taken him home– Kristoph’s home– and put him into bed with a cool washcloth on his forehead.
Tea, soup and bottles of medications were on the nightstand. Kristoph sat beside him, humming and stroking his hair.
“Rest, Mr. Justice.”
With a dizzy smile, Apollo accepted his fate.
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