She says nothing for it, nor really shows much interest to his stubborn refusal of her care. Just keeps dabbing the cool water on his head, patting it gently up around his temple to his forehead. Knows he'll be tacky with sweat that's dried on his skin. Light, careful, give him reason to pull away more than he already has.

"You sound like my husband," admonishes softly, tells a story idly to occupy his thoughts away from his fear. "He never much wanted to be cared for either."

She pushes his hair back from his forehead, letting it damply stick back and hold to itself away from his face.