She hadn't forgotten about Neil, exactly. She remembered tasking him with helping her to cart things home, sharing her plans for the bulk of the food, asking him for any fireplace ashes he could get together for her. She just hadn't expected him to turn up first thing in the morning, if he'd turned up today at all. Was it still first thing in the morning? She realized that she'd been staring off into space for a while, trying to feel every system in her body and the ways it might be betraying her. Measles seemed likely. The rash all over her arms and torso, the fever, the lightheadedness. Coming later on the heels of those, the nausea, the dry mouth, the pain in her joints.
If it were Sam or Wanda or Clint, she'd yell at them to go away, come back later. She'd claim she was busy, and hopefully they'd go. Well, Clint probably wouldn't, but he'd take care of her, and while part of her would hate it, part of her would drink it up. She couldn't just shout at Neil to get lost, though, she didn't know him that well. So she dragged herself to her feet, and then to the door, taking a moment to pull up a facade of composure before swinging it open, a big fake smile pasted on her face. "You're up early," she said, waving him in. "There by the fireplace is fine, thanks."
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She hadn't forgotten about Neil, exactly. She remembered tasking him with helping her to cart things home, sharing her plans for the bulk of the food, asking him for any fireplace ashes he could get together for her. She just hadn't expected him to turn up first thing in the morning, if he'd turned up today at all. Was it still first thing in the morning? She realized that she'd been staring off into space for a while, trying to feel every system in her body and the ways it might be betraying her. Measles seemed likely. The rash all over her arms and torso, the fever, the lightheadedness. Coming later on the heels of those, the nausea, the dry mouth, the pain in her joints.
If it were Sam or Wanda or Clint, she'd yell at them to go away, come back later. She'd claim she was busy, and hopefully they'd go. Well, Clint probably wouldn't, but he'd take care of her, and while part of her would hate it, part of her would drink it up. She couldn't just shout at Neil to get lost, though, she didn't know him that well. So she dragged herself to her feet, and then to the door, taking a moment to pull up a facade of composure before swinging it open, a big fake smile pasted on her face. "You're up early," she said, waving him in. "There by the fireplace is fine, thanks."