Work Text:
Moffitt sneezed. “Great,” Troy said. “Now I have your germs all over me.”
“Allergic to camels?” asked Tully.
“I might be a teeny tiny bit thick, but it’s fine,” said the sick Brit. “All I need is a tepid bath, a painkiller, and to get to bed.” He sneezed again.
“And what about the mission? You’re the only one who can play a flute. You have to infiltrate a musical band of Arabs who’re helping the Germans.”
Moffitt wheezed. “Do you sink I can play the flute like sis?”
“Only you could get a cold in the desert,” said Hitch.