Russel sat curled up against Vivian, who held a cool, damp cloth to his feverish forehead. An alarm in the kitchen chirped, and Vivian set the cloth down and untangled himself from the covers and Russel's arms. He was soon to return with two small bowls of steaming vegetable soup, one of which he handed to his husband with a tender kiss to his forehead.

They sat together in bed all afternoon, watching The Lord of the Rings, which was paused intermittently so that Russel ramble on to Vivian about some obscure crumb of information. Night fell quietly on the city, and Russel dozed off with his head on Vivian's lap.