A Cold in His Nose - Tinnean

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Notes: This was written for kendermouse. Jefferson Sebring first appeared in the Soundbyte, Blue Velvet.

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I looked up from me narrow bed as Modesty walked into the room. She was carryin' a bowl of chicken soup, which she'd insisted on makin' her ownself. I took the thermometer from me mouth.

"I ain't sick, Princess," I whinged, then spoiled it by sneezin'.

"'Course you're not, Willie." Modesty put the bowl down on the dresser, stalked across the room to me, which only took a couple of strides on account of her long legs, took the thermometer from me 'and and shoved it back in me mouth. "Keep it there, you idiot."

She rested her palm against me fore'ead and then against me cheek. "You're warm, Willie."

"I'm fine, I tell ya."

She ignored me protest. "What I don't understand is how you managed to catch a cold."

My face felt hot. I knew how. That bloody Yank, wiv 'is red hair an' hot eyes. I've always had a weakness for blokes wiv red hair, but that one, wiv his soft accent - he really done me in from the first moment I saw him.

Her eyes narrowed. "If I recall, Jefferson Sebring was looking under the weather the last time I saw him."

I spoke around the thermometer. "Dunno what you're goin' on about, luv."

"Don't you. And keep your mouth shut, if you please." Finally she took the bleedin' thing from me mouth. She peered at it, then shook it down and shook her head. "It's 99."

"Y'see? Not even a fever."

"Willie, you're just lucky. Now sit up and I'll feed you the soup I made."

I gave her a weak smile. "Thanks, Princess." I really didn't feel too good. An' besides, she was me mate, and I wasn't goin' to 'urt her feelings by turnin' down her kindness.

Still, it was touch and go there for a bit. I managed to 'old on 'til she took the empty bowl back to me kitchen, an' then I bolted for the loo.

An' just in time, I might add.

Lord love her, but Modesty Blaise couldn't cook worth a lick.

~End~