Room 407; Sunday Morning [ 02/01 ].

[not_a_mused]

With how he'd been feeling yesterday, Cal would have figured that some heavy duty sleeping might have helped at least a little. And, well, it did, but the difference felt very minuscule. Moving in his bed to stare at the wall caused a bunch of sickly coughs to wedge their way out and he thought to himself that there was no way he was making it to his usual workout with this cold. There was still a glimmer of hope that he might still make it to the Superbowl thing, though not because he wanted to. But because it seemed the sort of thing he should be at, cold be damned, to preserve a certain reputation.

But those coughs were not heralding a good thing as he pulled his blankets around him tighter. He wondered if he looked as bad as he felt, because he felt like he'd been hit by a tractor, and, believe him, he knew what that felt like.

At least he knew he really was justified in having canceled his date with Claire last night and that he wasn't just being an idiot.

[[ door is closed, but post is open! I've got a chunk of SP in the afternoon, but, as always, any sp = looooove ]]