Being trapped in bed is a horrible problem for a person as active as him. Clint's gotten a lot better about being good and following doctors' orders since his big, big injury in his twenties, but being laid up for a couple months recuperating from basically taking a grenade to the face, going deaf, and extensive skin grafts gave him a loathing of hospitals and inactivity and all of those good things. So it's not Bev's fault at all - this is just a thing that he does, and sadly for the people around him, Laura's not there to mitigate his restlessness and chide him into behaving like she normally does.

Still, his first day free of fever is actually pretty calm - even he can't recuperate all that fast from an illness like that, and he's just too weak to want to do anything other than lay in bed and rest. The real problems will kick into gear the next day and only get worse.

"Yeah," he croaks out, voice a little ragged and weak and not all that Clint-like. He's far from the loudest person he knows, but he's still confident in his speech and delivery, and all of that is gone right now. "Stomach's kind of tossing, but I'm starving."