Woods was the kind of guy who rarely got sick. It was only after a long tour of duty that you came back with a bad cold, your lungs not happy about the weather. In truth, Woods had no idea what to do with a sick person, but he'd learned that if anyone ever needed a stern nurse, it was Woods.

He looked at you, hacking up a lungful of phlegm.

Woods grumbled and pointed them to the couch.

"Stay there," he commanded. "I'm making you a bowl of soup."