Spirit doesn't hand over the mug, instead helping support it with the hand closest to her.

"I said I'd help you," he's mumbling, half to himself and half to her. A bit louder, and now more uncertain: "Just a sip or two, if it hurts your stomach. Just something."

He doesn't note the unnatural stillness, not now. There's too many layers of blankets, and too much of his focus on getting her to eat. If eating truly will hurt her, now's probably the chance to tell him.