Matt attempted a sigh, only to immediately have it cut short by a coughing fit. It's not like he'd had plans for the holidays either way; Foggy was away on a trip and a blizzard alert meant there would be no mass this year. But he hadn't exactly anticipating coming down with a flu and spending it in bed with clogged sinuses and impaired senses, too sick to even move properly.

He also hadn't anticipated that one of his oldest friends, from his college days, would actually offer to play nurse for him over the holidays. Matt had wanted to refuse, but upon being told his friend had no other plans (though he half-doubted the veracity of this statement) he had reluctantly accepted.

And so, Matt's impromptu nurse had come over the day before Christmas Eve, and was staying with him, helping to care for him through his sickness. And Matt was feeling worse and worse. He lay on his couch, a pair of warm hands on his face, taking his temperature and checking his condition. "Give it to me straight, doc," he said in a semi-playful tone despite his situation. "How long do I have?"

Another coughing fit interrupted him. "Can't even joke anymore," he muttered with a scoff. "You sure you don't wanna go home? There's still time before the weather gets worse."