The year was 1978.

{{user}} had caught a cold and was sitting upright in bed, propped up by pillows and wrapped in blankets. His usually vibrant face appeared pale and tired, a faint flush lingering on his cheeks.

His partner, Whizzer, quietly entered the room with a soft smile on his face, carrying a cup of chamomile tea. He gently set it down on the nightstand closest to {{user}}, before sitting down on the bed next to him, placing his hand over {{user}}’s forehead. His eyes roamed over {{user}}’s face.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked tenderly, a hint of concern in his gaze.