Ish naht ah-CHOO cold
(Cornelius is 28, Franny is 27, Carl is 3 (years of operation), Lucille is 51)
A high-pitched squeal came from the kitchen, followed by the shuffling of feet, and the clang of two metal ones. "Ya know, sir, I could just replicate you a cup of tea.." Carl tried in vain, but his creator just waved him off, sniffing heavily. He was not only wrapped in his robe, a sweater, winter pajama pants, socks and slippers, but in a heavy wool blanket as well. Moving slowly about the kitchen, pulling the screaming kettle from the stove, and pouring the boiling water into a mug, he looked to the robot with a frown. "you-ah loosh all da nutrients if ya replicate it." Cornelius replied, his nose stuffed, head feeling like it wasn't even attached to his body. He cast pale blue eyes to Carl, gray having over-taken the sky-blue that normally looked through them. His glasses were half-way down his nose. "Not exactly, sir… Would you just, ah, let me…" Carl made a grab to pick the mug up, but Cornelius batted him away again, tenderly picking up the mug in a slightly shaky hand. "Ahy got it, Carrl." He refuted, shuffling around the curved island counter to a stool seat. The robot looked about, and then let his shoulder joints fall, repeating the noise of a sigh. "I'm calling your mother and Franny." The robot replied, clanking out of the kitchen. Cornelius just shrugged, snuggling into his layers with his tea. Mind blissfully blank, he doubted he could work on anything right now, not with this cold. "Be mah gues-CHOO!" he sneezed, slopping hot tea over his blanket and hand, dropping the mug, which the counter quickly caught before it hit the smooth top. His hand burned, but he wrapped it in the blanket until it felt like the heat was gone, the fabric soaking it up. "Ah damnit…" He cursed under his breath, glaring at the mug. "Oh sweetie!" Lucille cried as she plodded into the kitchen, Franny close on her heels. He looked to them, seeing Carl bringing up the rear. "Ah'm fine, mahm." He sniffled the reply to her mutterings about being ill. "Oh honey…" The older scientist lifted his face to look at her, her dark eyes meeting his. "Back to bed, mister." She scolded, casting a glance to Franny and stepping away. "Struck hard by the common Cold." Cornelius pulled his chin away from her hand. "Ish naht ah, ah, ahh-CHOO! cold." Franny hid a smile, stepping close and holding out a tissue. "Love, I think it is, and momma is right, back to bed before you infect the whole house." Cornelius grumbled, getting to his feet to shuffle out with Franny. Carl picked up the tea mug and followed them out, but kept his head to speak with Lucille. "You know, Ma'am… I think you and Franny are the only people he will ever listen too." Lucille just patted Carl's cheek. "I know, dear, now go look after him." With a head-bob from the robot, the head drifted back to its body, resettling to follow the other two. Cornelius pulled the covers tighter, grumbling about being told to go back to bed. "Ya know, Ah'm perfecly cap-able of—" he took several deep breaths, but didn't sneeze. "of takin' care of meh shelf." Franny pushed the door to their bedroom open, nudging him in so he couldn't try to escape. "I know, but right now, momma knows best, and I'm always right." Cornelius smirked, sniffling back snot again. "Yesh, ya are." He dropped the blanket on the bed, feeling the cold dive right for his skin through the layers he wore. Sliding under the covers, he snuggled down until not even his face showed. Curling into a ball, he sneezed into his sleeve, feeling Franny pat his head. "Just try and rest. Carl will be right here if you need anything." He mumbled something, probably along the lines "Baht Ah'm jist fine."
Note: Yes, this is suppose to be written as a giant block, because that is how I write when I'm sick, and if I'm sick, so is Corney.
Though technically, I haven't been sick for a long while, and I wrote this when I was coherent. So, um, Love it, or die. Yes. And read my other stuff and leave reviews!
