It all started with a sniffle. It was an insignificant physiological gesture that - in retrospect - should have indicated the presence of a greater threat... but who in the sprock thinks about those kinds of things? Especially when they're working on a cup of coffee and four days into a rather fascinating and potentially disasterous experiment involving self-replicating nanobots. The sheer fact that they were performing some sort of mitosis not written into the original code was enough to cause one of the few mortal Legionnaires to completely ignore the rapid congestion in his nose in favour of hastily scribbling down notes on one of his digital notepads.

Then came the sneezing. Six days in, sniffles developed into periodic sneezing, but the nanobots were starting to display indications of some sort of higher intelligence, attempting to pile atop one another to open the petri dish which was, fortunately, sealed shut tightly enough to withstand most lasers at a reasonable intensity. What reasonable scientist would simply abandon an experiment then?!

Only after the sneezing formed into a disruptive, grating cough did the human set down his experiment, put the nanobots into the deep-freeze, and report to medical to get checked out. The sooner he could return to work the better. Though, in retrospect, perhaps he should have just kept on.

Fever, sinus infection, inner ear infection, massive amounts of mucus, and coughs caused by congested lungs. Sure, he might not have kept himself in good health, but dammit how did this happen? Could it have been when he was examining the nigh-extinct strains of virus prior to the nanobot experiment? Potentially but he had taken precautions. Either way, he was meant to stay in bed and get better, but it was boring.

Wrapped in a blanket, Lyle shuffled himself through the halls, avoiding detection as best as a floating blanket could. Once inside the lab, he shifted back into visibility. "Braiiiiiinyyyyy! I'm sick!"

It had been a largely uneventful few days, Dox's primary focus being on giving the Legion computer systems an upgrade (while taking a brief interval to once again make some "adjustments" to the VR game station in the main lounge as revenge for Garth and Rokk pissing him off at the last meeting), and it didn't seem as if he would be given a true break from it all until the backup systems were modified and back online.

Correction: It didn't seem as if he would allow himself to have a break.

At least four times in the passing hour, Dox had snapped himself awake and managed to drop or knock over rather important components before finally migrating back to his laboratory and began work compiling his notes and writing reports on his personal datapad. At least there was a lesser degree of danger should he fall asleep that way...or a small degree of causing an explosion, at any rate. Point of the matter was he'd been awake and working almost nonstop for far too long, and even he was aware that it could cause his cognitive faculties to degenerate until he ate and rested for at least a few hours. Not that it mattered, though...

...except for the fact that he was beginning to see things out the corner of his eye, such as the door sliding open and closed, and an odd shape that he didn't think to focus on. Of course, he tried to ignore it, simply continuing with his work, until a familiar but unexpected (in his tired state) voice wheezed up behind him. Startled, the datapad practically flew from his hands and clattered to the floor, Dox whipping around and planting a foot on the floor only to stumble and fall backward, his rear end thudding onto the floor.

"NORG! What in Xarrox's name?!"

Lyle watched as his friend tumbled to the floor and couldn't help but start laughing. Well above average intelligence or not, he was still a teenage boy and to most teenage boys seeing someone in pain or partially humiliated made for great joy. He doubled over, wheezing, before the laughs were replaced by coughs and slight tumbling onto the floor next to his best friend.

Looking up pathetically, he gave his best impression of a puppy he could. "Doxy I'm sick." He repeated as he gripped the blanket closer around his bathrobe and pajamas and socks... really, he was a walking bundle at this point and it wasn't helping anything. He was still over-heated and too cold at the same time, and it appeared that even though they had the most advanced tech known yet they still did not have effective cold medicine.

"And I'm bored!! There's nothing to do in my room and no one wants to hang out with me!" Lyle was fully aware that he was whining but he wanted sympathy and some contact with another living being. Though the current contact consisted of laying on the floor with his friend because they both fell over he regretted nothing of his decision. "What were you doing?"

Scowling, Dox moved onto his knees to crawl over to where the datapad had fallen, muttering to himself that obviously Lyle was ill; he'd received the notification from the medical bay that Tinya had sent to his communicator, a wise preemptive move on her part, seeing as Dox would have simply begun paging every Legionnaire and every department until his associate was located so he could get back to work. Dox was infamous for his temper and his impatience, and frankly it was lucky anyone put up with him at all on some of his "disagreeable" days. The Coluan grumbled, leaning his back against the worktable's storage cabinets when he sat back down, legs draped over the mass of human and fabric that was Lyle Norg.

"If you truly must know, given your otherwise incapacitated state," he began as he resumed typing on the touch screen, "I am attempting to compile reports from our last five missions to see if there is any sort of pattern to the attacks. I grew bored with upgrading the computer system." He peeked around the datapad, arching a brow. "If you are ill, why are you not in bed or in quarantine? I doubt the others would appreciate you spreading your germs due to boredom and loneliness."

---
// Sorry so short...brain did not want to words.

Of course he knew. Lyle kept his expression mostly neutral at Dox' question, not entirely certain what his friend and colleague would do should he expose that he was supposed to be sequestered to his quarters and not have any outside contact due to the nature of his disease. That would probably end with being forced out and back to his room alone, again. He rolled over to look up at the Coulan who was now using him as a leg rest. "Well... technically... I was bored and no other humans are in this sector and the chances of cross-species contamination are supposed to be pretty low!"

Smooth, Norg. Very smooth. What in the sprok is with you today? He sighed and wiggled in his blanket bundle, getting comfortable since they both appeared to be set on sprawling on the floor. At least it was clean. The lab was always clean. Even though he'd gotten sick here, that was his own fault for bringing in biological contaminants.

"Are you having any luck with determining any pattern? Or even an established base rate?" Lyle asked, scooting until only his legs were under Brainy's. The human sat up and tried to look at the data pad, his blanket-cocooned body not entirely helpful in this situation. "Because if you have a base rate of occurance, any relevant correlational data should show fairly soon." He was genuinely interested in finding out if there was a connecftion between recent attacks, especially if that could lead to the prediction and prevention of future action.

Dox rolled his eyes; were he not mildly sympathetic toward Norg due to his illness, Dox would have planted his foot square in the center of Lyle's face, shoved him away, and drugged him so Garth or Cham could take him back to bed. But, given the nature of his abilities, he would likely find a way to break out and slip past security...again. It was less work just to put up with him for an hour or so and simply allow his illness to force him into sleep once again.

"Actually, I had only just finished editing Lightning Lad's reports," he mumbled. "These are typically sent to government officials when major property damage or political issues arise, and...Garth has a habit of swearing every other line. I think he does it to punish me for the time I tweaked his VR sim to have him believe he was being attacked by those green Orion slave girls from the Star Trek series archives. Nothing like feeling as if a large breasted, scantily-clad green woman is kicking your ass..."

And of course, Dox was right. If Lyle was once again forced into his room, he would just fade into invisibility and make his way back to the lab. The funniest thing about that was that his blanket wasn't invisble and yet no one notice it floating slowly thought the hallways. He ignored his companion's apparent disdain for his questioning and mere presence, knowing full well that of he wasn't wanted, he could be forcibly removed from the lab. It happened once before and he wasn't all that keen on re-living the experience.

"I know most of us swear a lot, but for the love of all that is Garth does more than I though possible while still maintaining some level of understandable speech." He'd seen some of the unedited reports, which had some things in there that would make a seasoned prostitute - or politician, six of one really - blush and giggle.

"Are you ever going to tell me how you did that? 'Cause I went over the coding and I can't figure it out." The human stared down at the reports, snuffling and holding in coughs, his body jerking forward ocassionally. If the partial deafness in his right ear and complete deafness in his left were any indication what so ever, he really should be in bed. But since when did any scientist or patient really do what was best for themselves? Hey! At least now they knew those viruses were still viable for testing and experimentation!

"Of course I'm not going to tell you," the terse Coluan said, raising a hand to Lyle's face to shove him aside; it may take a bit to get him sick, but he didn't fancy being coughed on. "Why should I tell you anyway? It's one of the few joys I have in being on this damned team."

Of course the second Dox's hand touched Lyle's face, he noticed the high fever and rolled his eyes. Damned stubborn human just couldn't follow the medic's orders and keep his pale-skinned ass in bed long enough to get better. Shaking his head with a huff, Dox set the datapad aside and moved to stand up, his backside sore from hitting the floor. Not even bothering to help Lyle to his feet, Dox simply dragged the bundled-up human across the floor to the other side of the lab where his cot was; way too often, Dox had found himself sleeping in the lab more than his own quarters and it had become necessary to at least have a cot there lest he continue sleeping on the cold metal floor. Struggling a moment before ultimately using his forcefield to lift Lyle onto the cot, Dox rather unceremoniously let the other boy fall on it in a heap.

"You can stay here while I finish working," he said, glaring down at the human, "but you have to stay right here so you don't cause trouble and so you don't randomly pass out and crack your head on the floor like an idiot. Are we clear, Norg?"

"Because you like me and I have good ideas about how to make his simulations more amusing for me." He pretty much expected to be shoved away and was a bit surprised at how gently the Coulan did it. If he wasn't sick, he probably would have been knocked down and stomped on a few times for being annoying. Well, if he didn't run away first. But making his friend mad was funny from time to time so he kept doing it. The human watched his friend get up and didn't hinder him from dragging his prone body to the cot, nor did he help. And really, his lack of active cooperation was hindering enough. Plus it took up a fair amount of time, so it was amusing to him and his bundled up self. However, when Dox couldn't lift him, he looked up, offended. "Hey! I'm not heavy!"

"I'm not causing trouble!!" He protested, pouting before he consented, curling up on the cot. However, Lyle couldn't be kept amused for long. He wanted to do something. So he might have kept his ring on him. He might have hovered a little over the cot and sunk back down a few times before getting a crazy little grin. The human may have studied the wall for a few minutes before he fully faced it and wiggled his fully-bunded self over. He may have also started to crawl up the wall in his blanket like a catterpillar. Because he could.

He obeyed Brainy's commands for about five minutes before he started to crawl about the walls and ceiling like a larvae, complete with his own sound effect... and frequent giggles.

Of course Dox didn't notice at first, once again hunched over reports and dissertations in a vain attempt to slog through profanity, grammar errors, typos, blatant misspellings...it was, simply put, a mess. It wasn't until he heard Norg giggling that he realized something was up. Leave it to the human to find yet another irritating way to pass the time when he should be sleeping off his illness. Once again, he was catching sight of Norg, bundled up as if inside a cocoon, out the corner of his eyes as he wormed his way around the walls and ceiling and Dox couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the bacteria that Norg had been studying had somehow devolved his mental capacity to that of an Antillian harper slug (which, granted, might be an honest improvement for some of his teammates)...

Xarrox help him if he left a "trail" on his clean walls.

"...Norg, do not make me get out the tranq gun. I haven't had to use it since Bart was on-base, and I would prefer not to have to start using it again." Not to mention the fact that on more stressful nights, Dox would drink himself into death (or, well...until he passed out) just to forget Bart and every other damned annoying member of their team. "I'm not above knocking you out and chaining you to your bed, you know..."

The threat was entirely valid and once before had been acted out, which left the human with a sense of foreboding and a willingness to go back and sit down on the cot. "Kinky." He quipped as he eased himself down onto the cot again. He tried to be quiet for a little longer before he sighed, exasperated. Lyle was able to sleep almost anywhere, but perhaps he was getting soft as he aged. That or his illeness was hampering his ability to adapt to the situation, which either way ended up with a whining, pouting lump on the cot that flopped from side to side every few moments. "Brainy!! It's not comfortable! Why don't you just get a bed or something for in here? We practically live in here, right?"

The human knew he was probably annoying his collegue further, but didn't want to stop talking. He was bored and just wanted a friend to talk to, specifically a green friend with marks on his face. Functional marks. Cute functional marks.

He stomped on that train of giggling delirium and shook his head, promptly groaning and putting his hands up to try to stop the spinning. That kept him quiet for a number of minutes. The pain throbbed in his sinuses and his nose dripped unplesantly until he stopped it with his tissue supply. He knew why all of these things were happening, he also knew that they would take at least two days to stop. Another coughing fit left him with his legs draped over the cot and his back on the floor, arms sprawled out of his blanket cocoon. "I want soup."