See, Ignis really wants to stop everything to take care of him. They are not, after all, in an emergency, and Gladiolus is ill. Not helpless, not truly, but as close to it as he gets, for the most part, and that is not wrong.

But he knows that, even with their restoratives, there is not much that will bring immediate relief for a cold. So he has to remind himself of patience, of doing things as they need to be done.

He attempts a smile for Gladio, a soft one - not strained, just small - and moves to retrieve the book, anyway.

"Perchance not. But, as I cannot just yet stay and keep you company, the comfort of a different sort of friend will have to do." He has to give him something to hold on to, does he not?

"And I could read to you some, after you finish what I prepare for you. If allowed to fish the whole day, Prompto and Noct will not be back for hours and my mediocre artistic rendition just might help you back to sleep." Yes, he is teasing a little. And yes, he is certainly imagining doing that reading with, at the very least, Gladio's head in his lap. He did notice that the caress felt good, after all, and he is willing to give more. Shortly.