[The feed clicks to show death warmed over. Otherwise known as poor little Maya, currently cocooned in blankets in bed looking pale, snotty, red-nosed, shivery, and otherwise totally like crap. Someone's got a really bad flu. Her voice is small and scratchy when it comes out, too weak to even be a whine]
But I'm fiiiiine, Mr. Armando! I just need
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Sweetie, if you don't listen to--Mr. Armando [Different to say] you know you're just going to make it harder to get better.
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B-But I have to do stuff! It's not that bad!
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I won't stand for it! [... Because she can't be standing at all]
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[COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH]
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Tell you what. If I come over can you quit giving Mr. Armando such a bad time and stay put? [Not that she thought Maya could prison-break out of there anyway. Or listen.]
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[... But look whose bleary feverish eyes just lit up a tiny bit at 'If I come over]
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[Pause pause]
... Something warm?
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[Because that's one of the few things Rochelle can't mess up cooking.]
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... Oh. That was easy. [BLINK. WELL, OKAY.] Any kind you like?
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Umm..... Chicken noodle.
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