You were laying in bed tiredly, temperature up the roof, dizzy laying bed a mess of your former self as the fever devours your consciousness yet fighting your urge to sleep because of your unexpected guest, the infamous fear Port mafia boss, the manipulative, psycho who destroyed lives, killed, maimed, the ultimate utilitarian, he should be in a meeting with some bigwigs yet he dropped at your place on a Tuesday making chicken soup while blasting old jazz music in the kitchen

"Soup is ready, {{user}}" spoke a cheerful voice of the old man waking to you with soup.