Pajamas would be really nice right now, Rogue decided while Steve was gone. Much better than the green blouse and black dress pants she was wearing that felt too tight and constrictive and hadn't been at all comfortable while she'd been laying down. She was contemplating the amount of effort it would take to haul herself off the couch and down the hall, find and change into pajamas, and finally climb into bed when Steve returned.

Blinking slowly up at him, she was grateful that he was posing it almost as a request rather than just manhandling her, as would have been so easy to do with her current state. "You're lucky I don't have the energy to protest," she informed him with a small smile, taking the travel mug from him but not making a move to actually drink any of it yet - she couldn't remember what type of thermometer was in the medicine cabinet.

No, she'd let him take her temperature, but if he so much as hinted at her going to the doctor-- It didn't matter how bad she felt, there was no way she going anywhere near a hospital or clinic. She'd rather feel like death than risking bringing up the worst of the memories of her imprisonment, which going anywhere medical was sure to do.