"Yeah, your sovereign remedy," Hardison snorted, finally coming in close enough to rest the inside of his wrist on Eliot's forehead. Oh yeah, that was a fever. "You tried to tell us that was all you needed after DC, too, remember? Naw, we need to get some--some orange juice up in here. An' soup. Chicken soup. An', like, NyQuil or somethin'."
Beat.
"Maybe I should call Nana. Or Sophie." Because Parker wasn't going to be much more helpful than he was. Unless poking Eliot would somehow put him on the path to recovery.
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Date: 2016-01-30 11:13 pm (UTC)Beat.
"Maybe I should call Nana. Or Sophie." Because Parker wasn't going to be much more helpful than he was. Unless poking Eliot would somehow put him on the path to recovery.