"Going to the Dogs"
He lay in bed completely bored. He was tired of reading and had put his book aside a while ago then, deciding to roll over to take a nap when suddenly nature called and it became the challenge. His back was being completely uncooperative, that being the reason was why he was in bed in the first place.
His ruse had convinced Max Schneider that he was relatively pain-free and could at least be released from medical to go home. The order was given for bed rest, then after a few days light duty. Better that he was out of headquarters for the moment and not subject to the ridicule and embarrassment of it all, especially from his partner.
He tried sitting up and that sent his lower back into a spasm of pain. Then he turned to his side letting himself roll over the edge of the mattress, as he dropped his feet to he floor.
Then he raised himself, pushing his torso upwards with his arms to a sitting position. Then, stepping from the bed, he straightened himself as best he could while using his hands on his thighs to support his lower back, letting out a yelp as he barely stood. He was still hunched over. Chyort.
This would simply not do...
He slowly hiked himself to a standing position, gaining his balance for a moment, then hobbled to the bathroom like an old man.
Why he had convinced himself that being home was a better idea, he had no clue. At least in medical a pretty nurse could have helped him up from bed...forget that, could have brought him a bed pan. Ugh, there was a lovely thought. But at this point that seemed better than what he had just put himself through just get up to take a piss.
The price one pays for doing one's duty to U.N.C.L.E. would normally make such inconveniences acceptable, but tripping over Maude Waverly's dog as it lay in the Old Man's conference room while being dog-sat was not exactly doing one's duty.
Ah, such is the peril of being an U.N.C.L.E. agent, danger lurks around every corner, or in this case on the floor...