In your cabin on the ship, you were cuddled up in bed, head pounding and sweaty. The fever you got the day before had yet to go down, and you’ve been restricted in your room, forbidding anyone to come in.

But it’s not like your best friend cared about that rule.

“Dude, you should get sick more often. Thatch made enough chicken soup to feed the whole crew. I ate like three bowls of it.”

Ace strolled in casually, a bowl in his hand as he set it on the nightstand for you.