"Never thought I'd say this, but I liked it better when you were feeling up to complaining." (Dialogue-only, phone call mini-fic.)

"You really won't let me come over?"

"Absolutely not, Lizzie. It's just the flu, I'm fine."

"If you're fine then why can't I come over?"

"Because there's no need for you to get sick as well."

"Who says I'll get sick? I've always had a very strong immune system, you know."

"Perhaps I'm not willing to chance it."

"And what if I am?"

"Well you can try to come over but Dembe's laid up in bed as well. I've already passed this on to him."

"I don't really need someone to open the door for me, you know. That's just the illusion of control that I'm gracious enough to give you. I'm perfectly capable of picking a lock."

"I'm well aware, Lizzie. But please don't."

"... Fine. Are you sure there's nothing I can just drop off to you? You know, reduce the risk of contamination?"

"No, thank you, Lizzie, we're fine. We have hot tea and buttered toast galore, not that either of us feel like eating anything."

"So, there's absolutely nothing that I can do?"

"No."

"Never thought I'd say this, but I liked it better when you were feeling up to complaining. You're not you when you're like this."

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Lizzie."

"Oh, shut up, Red, you know that's not what I mean. I'm just worried about you."

"And I appreciate that worry, Lizzie. I truly do. But please don't bother. It's not necessary. Dembe and I will be just fine in a few days' time."

"Not to be rude but I wasn't worried about Dembe. He's young and strong, I know he'll be fine."

"Rude might not have been your intention but rude it certainly was."

"Sorry."

"I don't think you are."

"I'm not. But you'll call me when you're feeling better?"

"Yes, Lizzie."

"I want to see you as soon as you'll take visitors."

"I'm not on my deathbed, Lizzie."

"Well, you could have fooled me, what with the quarantine and all."

"It's just to be safe, Lizzie."

"I know... But it's annoying. I'll talk to you soon then?"

"At the earliest opportunity."

"All right. And don't hesitate to call if you're bored or whatever, okay? It is the weekend after all."

"I won't, Lizzie."

"You know, like if you wanna watch The Three Stooges with someone and Dembe's asleep."

"You hate The Three Stooges, Lizzie."

"Yeah, but I think being sick is kind of like your birthday: you get to do whatever you want ad everyone around you has to suffer too."

"I'm sorry I'm such an inconvenience to you, Lizzie."

"It's all right, I suppose. I think I'll manage this one time. Just make sure not to get sick too often. I'm not a very patient person."

"Oh, I know that."

"Speaking of rude, Mr. Pot."

"Oh, stop, you know what I mean. I'm sick, Lizzie, I'm not thinking straight."

"Mhm. That excuse will only get you so far, Mr. Reddington. You'd better watch yourself."

"I'll be on my guard, Agent Keen."

"….."

"So, you'll call?"

"Yes, Lizzie."

"Good. I guess I'll hang up then. Go watch some Three Stooges."

"Really?"

"I feel like I should be prepared for a marathon at any time, don't you agree?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"All right then. I guess I'll crack open that box set you gave me for my birthday last year."

"You're just now opening that?"

"You wanna watch The Bachelor instead?"

"You be careful, Lizzie, those damn wrappers can be tricky."

"I'll be sure to have band aids on hand for any paper cut emergencies."

"Very wise."

"….."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, Lizzie."

"Bye."

"Goodbye."

...

Ring, ring.

"Miss me already, Lizzie?"

"Shut up. I'm already confused. What are their names again?"

"So, there's Larry, Moe, and Curly..."