Mick knew the second he woke up it was gonna be bad. The flu had been going through the restaurant staff like wildfire and people were dropping like flies. The tickle in the back of his throat that had been bothering him for days turned into a full blown cough overnight and he was warm enough to be running at least a mild fever.

Whatever. Tissues, soup, aspirin. Let's do this.

Mick calls off for the week. Sure work wasn't happy about it, but it also wouldn't help anyone for him to drop on the line in the middle of a rush.

Then he sends a text to Leonard.

'Sick. Don't come over. You don't want this mess.'