It'd started with a cough. He'd ignored it—of course he did. Must've been the smoking catching up to him. Then came the cold. When had it gotten so cold, and why did his skin burn like he'd been set ablaze? Perhaps the lack of sleep was finally getting to him. It had become a luxury, after all. Scattered paperwork, prepping and ordering ingredients, and planning the week’s set meals were bound to take their toll. He wouldn't acknowledge it, though—not ever. And Rody— Stupid, stupid Rody— Cared. OR Vincent comes down with a fever, and somehow Rody ends up stuck with the job of looking after him.