Work Text:
“You’re sick,” Violet observes as soon as he enters the room, interrupting Krejjh mid-monologue.
“No I’m not,” he sniffles.
“I told you you were going to catch my cold!” McCabe scolds.
“You want some tea, dude?” Brian offers.
“Don’t need tea. Not sick,” he replies. At least, he tries to. His voice is so hoarse and his nose is so stuffy that he’s not sure every syllable gets pronounced quite the way it’s supposed to.
The others exchange a look. Sana sighs. “I’ll get him to bed. Arkady, you make tea.”
“On it, Captain.”
He really hates having friends sometimes.