28
ROUND TWENTY-EIGHT
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"The ambient temperature has not changed, boss, but your internal temperature has risen another half a degree. You should consider medication to alleviate the symptoms."
"Don't you sass me. I didn't program you to sass me," he grumbled. He should have thought of drugs sooner. She should have suggested drugs sooner. He'd only been feeling progressively worse for at least twelve hours.
But people. Namely Rogers and company. Right. He was avoiding them, especially now that he'd caught the death plague. No point in giving them more to needle him about. He could take care of himself.
But drugs. Sweet, sweet drugs to calm the pounding in his head and maybe let him sleep without coughing himself awake. He should keep a stock of drugs in the workshop, because he needed them and didn't have them and that was unacceptable.
He needed drugs. "Friday, where are the drugs?"
"The cold medication is on the counter in the kitchen area."
Ugh. Common area. There would be people, probably. But also drugs.
Moving took way more effort than it should have. The elevator wall was nice and cool against his face, though, and it meant there didn't have to be stairs. Both good things.
Tony could feel a cold sweat gathering under his clothes as he approached the doorway. He hoped it was from the effort of moving or the anxiety about who he might have to face while retrieving his needed drugs. If the cold sweat was thanks to the illness, then it had already developed further than he'd realized and he might have bigger things to worry about.
He dismissed the tightness in his chest as the result of exertion.
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Your characterisation of Tony is spot on and I cannot wait to read the next part.
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