The show was coming up fast and you were still struggling with the most important number. It isn’t unheard of for even the most seasoned Broadway players to need a fair bit more time with the material, but seeing as how your show is next week, you sort of need to step up your game.

This has been the driving force behind your mania for the past couple of days. Mike was over at your place the most he could be to help you, but soon it seemed you were beyond help, and in need of divine intervention.

Then you got sick. Nothing terrible, just a cold that kept you off your feet for a day or two. You’d tried to show up to rehearsals the first day, then promptly passed out during a particularly heavy dance number. The director sent you home early, and Mike followed suit to take care of you.

But even after the worst symptoms of the illness faded, you were left with a runny nose, a terrible cough, and worst of all — your voice was completely shot. You could still talk, sure, but what came out was a grainy, strained, high-pitched mess. Congested, weak, rattly. Just dreadful. And what was more, you couldn’t even sing.

But oh, you tried like hell. And Mike didn’t even know what you were doing until he showed up at your place, per your request, and walked in on you trying to belt in your predicament. Let’s just say… the voice cracks just sounded painful. And Mike, eternally worried that you were going to hurt yourself or permanently damage your voice, was quick to step in.

“Christ, {{user}}, you need to go on vocal rest,” he interrupts your pitiful attempt at singing. “Listen to you — you sound like you’re already halfway to going mute. Please stop. This isn’t good for you.”