Malfunctioning immune systems & other woes

It had been nearly a week in Germany and the weather hadn't ever let up. Sometimes there was less rain, but it didn't ever stop completely. It was fine with Eames, once he'd located everything they might need in close proximity to the hotel, and he'd thought once or twice that when they got tired of Germany and went to Verona instead, they should probably find an apartment somewhere instead of another hotel, but generally that thought trailed away again before he could actually think on it too hard.

He should have known, really, that there would be consequences for not sleeping regular hours for the past month or so, along with the traveling, and the current weather. But he didn't get sick, and so he was doing his best to ignore the first signs, just blaming it on inclement weather and fatigue, even though he wasn't really tired and he didn't spend more time in the rain than strictly necessary.

At that particular moment he was perched on one end of the couch, reading quietly and listening to the arrhythmic staccato of the rain outside, what he hadn't realized was that over the course of the last three chapters, he'd gone from sitting like a normal person, to being half curled up under the bedspread that inevitably followed him from bed to couch whenever he moved.