Tenma offered a shaky, nauseated smile. "I think I've come down with something," he said, speaking a little better now that his throat was less hot and dry. "Perhaps... f-from the past few days of stress, and the cold today... I'm sure I'll be fine soon, after a little rest."
"B-but," Grimmer started to say, more shaken-looking than perhaps was normal. Tenma was a bit too out of it to fully notice. "Medicine...?"
"I'll probably have to... send you to get some, if it gets worse," Tenma suggested, shifting to lie a bit better on the pillows and attempt to shimmy the covers out from under him while he still had the strength to do so. "Please try not to worry."
Grimmer tensed, his voice raising a bit more than he meant to. "T-tell me now," he barked, keeping his distance, his coat still on--and it occurred to him that Tenma's was, as well. Perhaps that was alright. "What--what if you can't tell me, when it matters most, later?"
Tenma was quiet, focusing on Grimmer's face through squinted eyes, his brain working slowly. In his haze, he couldn't seem to understand what was eating Grimmer so much, so he attempted to articulate instead. "I can't know until the symptoms solidify, so to speak... if things go south, you can get directions to the pharmacist. Describe my symptoms, and they'll give you what you need. Use my money. Do you think you can do that, Mr. Grimmer?"
Grimmer was silent, watching Tenma sink into the pillows, hands falling halfway up his body with the covers, as if just speaking had taken a lot out of him. Grimmer shifted, a fit of purpose grabbing him and pushing him towards Tenma's bedside, to finish pulling the covers up. "I can," he finally said, finding his voice, and nodding with conviction. "I will."