[Yuan isn't there long enough for Kratos to muster a retort to the dry remark, but there is a baleful glare visible from beneath the covers, levelled at Yuan's back. When Yuan returns, Kratos has hardly moved.]

Yes. Soup.

[His voice is hoarse and long-sufferingly weary, and after a moment Kratos stirs out from under the covers. He stays on his side, which is easier on his sinuses, and all but buries his face in a pillow; but at least Yuan can now see him properly in all his spiky-haired glory, made worse from having been in bed all day.

[Kratos regards the food and the book through half-slitted eyes.]

If I didn't know any better I'd think you missed me.