Author's Notes: Once again, thanks to my loverly betareader, WyrdChic. Thaaank youuuu!

Chapter 2

"He does what? You don't say! Well, you know, I don't know. I've never caught him before, but I'll have to start looking from now on. Oh, and – yes?. . .Yes, I knew about that! I know what you mean! So could you please tell me. . .is it just some kind of Kweltikwaanian thing to chew on toenails? Uh huh. Yep. . .I thought so."

Jumba looked in surreptitiously on Pleakely, sitting up in bed with his phone. His mother didn't usually call in the middle of the afternoon – he wondered who it could be.

Glancing over casually at the door, Pleakley just happened to spy Jumba peaking in on him. Pleakley smiled and gave him a little wave, so Jumba just waved back and pushed the door open to enter the room

"Dear – I'm sorry, I have to go now. Yes. . .yes. I'll call you again later. Thank you so much. You take care of yourself, now. Buh-bye!" Pleakley closed the phone and smiled up sunnily at Jumba.

"I came for to see if you were feeling any better, but here I find you are so well you will not even be needing the souped chicken that little girl and 626 are making for you."

Pleakley fluffed the pillow he'd been leaning up against. He'd been in bed all day and it was starting to get a little flat.

"Well, my tummy still isn't quite in tip-top shape yet, but I am feeling a bit better than I was earlier." Pleakley held up his phone. "I, ah, took your advice and looked up your ex-wife. You never told me she was such a nice person. And so funny! I could have talk to her all day long!"

Jumba frowned. "Yes – she can be nice when she is wanting to. But when she is wanting to be not-nice – best for to watch out!"

"Hmmph," Pleakley replied. "I think she's just lovely. And she did make me feel better. In a way. It's nice to have somebody to talk to, about, you know – stuff."

Jumba shook his head. That stuff was exactly the topic he didn't want to talk about, even thought he'd actually come to address a subject very closely relating to it.

"Pleakley, I came to ask you. . .if you could be giving me permission to give you medical examination."

Pleakley waved his hand dismissively. "It's just a bit of a fever. Thanks for your concern, but I'll sure I'll be just fine."

"It is not your fever that I am being worried about. Well – it is in a sort-of-way. I am believing that this fever, and the aches in your tummy and all the rest, could be a sign of. . .something more serious."

"Now don't you start that again!!" Pleakley crossed his arms.

"I will be starting again because I think there is a concern here –"

"The only thing I'm concerned about is that it might be the Vardian flu. I hate getting the Vardian flu." Pleakley pouted at the thought.

Jumba sighed. "The symptoms you are experience have all been recorded in textbooks as possibly indicative of –"

"Jumba, they could be indicative of anything from Hasol fever to the early stages of Rangorian blue death. It's probably just an Earth cold of some sort."

Jumba took a chair by the desk. He scratched the back of his head. "Well, there have been other symptoms. . ."

Pleakley waited for Jumba to elaborate, then wrinkled his brow in frustration when he didn't.

"What other symptoms? What other symptoms could there be? I've told you all of them!"

"I have reason to believe. . .that you are starting to produce pheromones. Kweltikwaanian pheromones."

Pleakley laughed off the suggestion. "What? That's ridiculous! And how would you know that anyways, if you say you haven't done any tests yet?"

"I don't need any tests to detect Kweltikwaanian pheromones – I can smell them."

"You can't smell pheromones! They're odourless," Pleakley pointed out.

"Believe me, my friend, I know a Kweltikwaanian pheromone when I smell one," Jumba replied. "They make my pleebo twitch," he muttered.

"What was that?" asked Pleakley.

"Nothing, nothing. Look, you are needing very much to be examined! These changes could already be happening, for all we are knowing!"

"No. You're not examining me!"

"Just a small peek –"

"What is this, a peek show? You're not peeking at anything!!"

"Now please to be being reasonable.This will only take small minute." Stepping a bit closer, Jumba held his hands up to placate his friend.

Pleakley shrieked and pulled the covers up to his chin.

"NO! NO! NO!!! Leave me alone! Get out! Get out, I said!! You, you masher! GET OUT!!" He started throwing his pillows at Jumba, forcing the bewildered Kweltikwaanian towards the door.

Deciding it would be best to comply with his hysterical friend and perhaps try again later, Jumba finally retreated, slumping in exasperation against the closed door behind him.

Unfortunately, Pleakley's extreme reluctance continued for quite a few days, until Jumba had to promise not to try anything simply in order to get in the room and sleep on his own bunk.