If headaches could kill, Price would’ve been long gone; his head in his hands as he begrudgingly continued his work.

The blocked nose was just the cherry on top of everything, wasn’t it?

Every gush of wind or drop of a pen felt like a gong being hit right next to his ear — but of course, he wasn’t planning on resting any time soon.

There was too much to be done, and he wasn’t going to let a measly (yet not so measly) cold stop him.