The 'Fever' Affair
"Illya?"
"Ignoring you is not going to work is it?"
"No."
"I thought not. You are a worse patient than I am."
"Only because you aren't the one currently stuck in bed."
"Well, it is not like sleeping appears to be an option tonight any way. What is on your fevered mind – wait. You really are fevered."
"That answers my first question."
"I believe I told you before you went out that you should have worn your rubbers."
"I did."
"Then why were your socks and shoes soaked?"
"Because I – hold on. Did you mean galoshes?"
"Galoshes? Is that not some sort of soup?"
"No, that's goulash."
"It sounds very much the same to me. Exactly what is it that you thought that I -? Oh, Napoleon -"
groan
"To be honest, I had thought you were getting a little more personal than you usually do there, chum."
"Considering the T.H.R.U.S.H. female in question, both were advisable. Though something resembling armor plating below the waist would have been even better."
"That sounds painful."
"More painful than what she did to you?"
. . . . .
"Silence, Napoleon?"
"No. Just a better understanding of where the phrase 'the truth hurts' came from."
water running
"What? That didn't even rate a chuckle?"
"I am giving you the benefit of the doubt that the fever has affected your definition of what is and is not humorous. Now hold still."
"Can I get a pretty nurse?"
"Sorry, you will have to settle for a cute Russian."
"Still claiming to be cuter than me, eh?"
"It is not a claim. It is a fact. I have told you once and will tell you again, Napoleon. You would not care to be cute."
"Can't say that I see your problem with it, partner of mine."
"That is because you do not have to deal with it on a daily basis."
"Maybe. Couldn't possibly talk you into at least wearing a nurse's uniform, could I?"
. . . . .
"Well that's yet another old saying I understand better now."
"What saying would that be?"
"If looks could kill. And if they could, you'd be up for murder one."
"Nonsense. Justifiable homicide at best."
rattle
"What that?"
"Acetylsalicylic acid."
"You can't just say aspirin like a normal person?"
"If I start staying around normal people, I might consider it."
"You were actually hoping I didn't know that, weren't you?"
"Oh, I know that you knew it. I told you once. I was just wondering if you had actually been paying attention at the time. Swallow the pills."
"Yes, mother."
"The chicken soup I made is about to be fed to the cat."
"I don't have a cat."
"I do."
"I still think that was in poor taste."
"What? To own a cat?"
"No. Naming him Wellington."
"You both practically hissed at each other at first sight. It seemed appropriate."
grumble
"Here."
. . . . .
"Illya?"
"Yes, Napoleon?"
"What in the name of all that is holy is in this soup?"
"Chicken."
"Then what is this?"
"That is a chicken foot."
"And this?"
"That is a rooster comb."
"I think I'm going to be ill."
"You already are ill. You do not eat them. Just drink the broth."
"Could I get the broth without the ingredients staring at me?"
"They are not staring at you. I did not use eyeballs."
"Thank heaven for small favors. Please?"
sigh
"This from a man that eats salted fish eggs and snails. Better?"
"Much. Illya?"
"Yes, Napoleon?"
"Thanks, tovarich."
"You are welcome. Finish the broth and get some rest."
"No bedtime story?"
"You are ironing your luck."
"Pressing. All done."
"Give me the cup. Good night, Napoleon. I will be nearby if you need anything."
"Spasibo, Illya."
"Dobro pozhalovat, Napoleon."
