Gail stepped into the entryway, and was immediately assailed by a number of scents. Coffee, sweet tea, cocoa, honey, fruit… But not fresh, delicious scents. Old, lingering ones. And just a hint of sour milk. Given that Jo usually kept the house fairly clean, and he had only been gone for a day and a half, that was a little worrying. Stepping into the living room, he found a half-eaten bowl of fruit yoghurt on the coffee table, which rather explained the smell of sour milk. Next to it was a cup bearing the tell-tale remnants of cocoa. Judging by the state of the two items, they had been standing there since the early morning. He glanced into the kitchen, finding Jo’s coffee brewer. The filter was full of slowly drying grounds, and the pack of decaf coffee was standing next to it. She hadn’t even sealed the pack up, just leaving it open to the air. She almost never did that, since she said it ruined the flavour… The sink was full of dishes, too, but he didn’t pay them much attention. Walking upstairs, he found a half-drunk cup of honey-sweetened tea, now long since gone cold, next to a plate full of wilting fruit peels. The smell wasn’t entirely pleasant, and there were a bunch of little fruit flies converging on the plate of peels, but Gail still felt somewhat heartened. Because if nothing else, this meant Jo had managed to eat something. Walking over to the door to her room, he gave it a knock. “Jo, are you all right?” “No.” “Can I come in?” “Yes. But don’t get close. I’m probably contagious.” “I’ll take that risk.” Opening the door, he found Jo sitting curled up into a ball on the seat of her gaming chair. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad sign in and of itself. Jo couldn’t do anything straight, and that very much included sitting. She was more likely to be perched on a chair like a little gargoyle than she was to actually put her butt down on the seat. But the half-drunk cup of honey water, the empty bag of throat lozenges and the half-eaten piece of dry toast on a plate arrayed on her desk were more concerning. “How are you feeling?” “Awful. My throat is scratchy and my head is fuzzy and I don’t have enough energy to do anything.” “Have you been sleeping?” “I think so.” “In the bed?” “A little?” He sighed. “Do you need anything?” “No, I’m fine.” “You literally just told me you’re not.” “I don’t want to put you through any trouble.” “Jo, what have I said about not asking for help when you need it?” Jo fell silent for a moment, then spoke in a very quiet voice. “Some apple cinnamon soup would be nice.” “The one from the powder packets?” She nodded. “I’ll get you some. And I’ll clean up the mess.” “Sorry.” “Don’t apologize.” “Sorry.” Gail let out an exasperated huff. Jo looked a little sheepish. “I mean… Thank you.” “You’re very welcome.” As he turned to leave, Jo spoke up again. “I made you that stew you like. It’s been in the fridge a few hours, but you said you like it best when it’s re-heated, so…” Gail spun around, eyes wide. “You made me pork and mushroom cream stew?” “Well, you’re always grumpy when you have to work overnight, so I thought you could use some cheering up.” “But that’s a two-hour cook! I thought you said you didn’t have enough energy to do anything! You haven’t even managed to put your dishes away. How did you manage a two-hour cook?” “That’s not the same.” “How is it not the same?” “Because the stew is for you, not for me.” Gail sighed deeply. “We have to find you a girlfriend. That kind of dedication is wasted on a mere roommate.” “It’s not wasted on a best friend.” Gail nodded to himself as he considered the flood of emotions that statement provoked in him. “I am going to hug you now. I don’t know when I’ll stop.” “Don’t. I’m probably contagious.” “I’ll take that risk.”