A moment passes where Fever can only breathe, feeling grief grow in her, take up space - she has to swallow to keep talking, throat gone tight. This moment feels, for all its pain, safe. Safe enough for something like that to happen.

"...I'm not alone all the time. Phil's here often enough. He'll understand."

Helping him doesn't fall under the banner of work. If anything, it'll be the one way her mind won't sink and collapse on itself - knowing she is in company that does not ask her to be well and given some kind of task.

"But when he's not, I would appreciate your company. If I could come see you."

Lyubov too, if she's there.