oh no!

As is his usual luck, it's one of the few days Olruggio is awake before noon. While Qifrey struggles not to slump against the wall of their kitchen as his apprentices eat their breakfast in the other room, easily entertained by their own ideas, thank goodness, because Qifrey’s throat feels thick and the vibration of his own voice echoes through his head in sharp pains, Olruggio staggers downstairs and into the room, likely in search of coffee. His hair is mussed, and he's still blinking away sleep, but when his eyes lock with Qifrey’s they hesitate for a moment too long. 

Qifrey tries to smile, but it makes Olruggio’s brows furrow, so he just turns away to gently wipe his nose against his wrist. He’s been caught like always. It’d be easier to hold up the facade if Olruggio didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, because he just feels guilty lying to him. He sighs with defeat when Olruggio leans against the counter and levels him with a stern look. 

“You look awful.” Olruggio says, voice still rough. Qifrey sniffles again, nose irritated by the steam wafting off the bowls of oatmeal in front of him, feeling all too much like he's advertising his symptoms. “I’m quite alright.” He says, and his voice is just as congested as he feared it would be. How embarrassing he is. “Just a cold.” 

Olruggio huffs, leaning over to gruffly force a hand against Qifrey’s forehead that he's a bit too unsteady to dodge. “Jus’ a cold.” He murmurs. “You’re awfully warm for that.” Qifrey smiles again, suddenly finding his nose itchy. He pushes olruggio’s hand away, not unkindly, and steps back a bit to create space, waving a halfhearted hand in front of his face. “Not at all,” He can’t help the wince that comes across his face, the feeling aggravating both his sinus’ and his headache. “I’m merely warm from bearing near the stove. I’m in a fine state to-” has to pause to press a knuckle against his nose, which ends up having the opposite effect. The itch crescendos, so he has to whip around in an attempt to protect Olruggio from the worst of his symptoms.

“ ‘chT-!" he has to pause for a moment, curled over into his wrist, until his vision returns from static and he can feel anything but the thundering pulsing of his own skull. After a few deep breaths, he manages to straighten up and almost-look Olruggio in the eye. He looks annoyed, but not in the way he does when dealing with frustrating clients or mental blocks. He looks, frustrated, almost, closer to when their girls stubbornly refuse rest, or even Qifrey, sometimes. It's not a look he likes very much when it's placed onto himself. 

“Go to bed.” Never one to mince his words, Olruggio tells him flat out. “You’re going to fall over.” Qifrey was perfectly able to come to that conclusion himself, because there is still grey towards the corners of his vision, and his legs are starting to get suspiciously shaky. It's not something his lovely Olruggio should be seeing, though. Having his own weakness thrown back at him sparks an age-old defensiveness every time, like a cat backed into a corner. He sort of wants to snarl. 

“The girls need a master present.” He grits out instead between clenched teeth. Olurggio sighs, looking worn already, drags a hand down his face. “I’ll watch ‘em. I’m basically their master already.” He makes a shoo-ing motion. “Go off to bed before they start worryin’.” It's a bit lowbrow to bring them into this, but Qifrey can’t argue it, no matter how much his skin is prickling with desire to fight back. He sniffles against the back of his hand again instead of replying, starting to stumble his way upstairs to his chambers. Olruggio’s shoulders are tense as he passes, and his eyes look even more tired than normal, even though he doesn’t have any upcoming deadlines that he’s heard about. Not that he's been a good listener these past few days.

••●━━━ 𖤓 ━━━●••

His room is dark when he wakes up. Intentionally, surely, because he had been too tired to bother closing his own blinds when he collapsed against his bed, had fallen asleep with his head buried into the pillow to try to drown the light out. There’s only one person that would be in here, so he squints against the dark shapes, ignoring the way it makes him ache, and can vaguely make out a dark robe. 

Olruggio must be focused, or else he would’ve noticed. Qifrey takes his time getting up, for no reason relating to the way the world spins and heady pressure shifts in his face, tries to study Olruggio. There's the faint scratching of a quill, and Oruggio's posture seems stiffer than usual, like he's focused. Once Olruggio sniffles a few times, unconsciously, because his nose has started running since he lifted his head up, Olruggio looks up at him.

“Mornin’.” He says, voice soft like he knows. “Want a light on?”  Qifrey feels his face pull into a frown. “Why not just open the blinds? Natural light is always better.” According to Beldaruit, anyway, who liked to preach on the importance of nature at random turns. Olruggio opens his mouth, then shakes his head like he’s thinking better of something. “It’s the middle of the night, Qifrey.” Is all he says, quill taping an anxious rhythm against his paper. 

Qifrey sits up in a frantic motion, almost tipping over in the process. He has to grip the sheets hard and pant for a second, the whole world consisting of spinning shapes and his heartbeat in his skull. He sniffles again, uselessly, and Olruggio shifts around for a moment before handing him a grey handkerchief.

The gentle touch of fabric against his nose sets him off almost immediately. He barely has time to take in a breath before twitching. “ ‘dszhh-!” The shifting of congestion in his nose makes the itch reignite before he manages to catch his breath. He watches Oruggio's gaze as his breath wavers, on the edge, until he's finally set free. “ ‘dSZh - eH’dTZh!” thick and so unlike his usual sneezes, they hurt his throat. 

“Bless you.” Qifrey hums. He doesn’t trust his ability to talk. He's sick of this song and dance with Olruggio. Tired of pretending, tired of everything. He's exhausted, aching, and feels trapped in this room. 

“You’ve got a fever.” Oruggio says, startling him out of his fervor. His hands are gripped in the sheets, handkerchief still in hand. He avoids Olruggio’s eyes. “Nothin’ bad, you’re not too warm.” Qifrey sniffles again, pathetically, clears his throat into his shoulder. He’s so foggy-minded. “Okay.” he murmurs. “Thank you, Olruggio.” 

Olruggio doesn’t say anything, for a few minutes. Long enough that Qifrey nearly starts nodding off, lulled to sleep by rhythmic noises of anxiety. His quill never stops its tapping, probably bleeding through the paper and onto his sheets. Neither of them mention it. 

“Can I just take care of you, for once?” Qifrey finally meets his eyes, through his half closed eyes. He looks more ragged than usual, accentuated by the dark shadows of his room. Qifrey wants to ask him when he last got a good night's rest, when his next commissions are due, when the last time he checked up on the girls is. Wants to ask if Richeh ate much dinner, if Tetia is too hyper without enough to do today, if Aggott even looked up from her studies once. He does none of this. 

Instead, he sighs. “Will you take no for an answer?” he tries, to Olruggio's scoff. “Do you ever?” Qifrey can’t help but feel a little guilty at that, sinking back into the bed sheets with flushed cheeks. Olruggio stands, groaning, like he had been sitting there for a while. He shuffles across Qifrey’s room to his desk, full of books and scattered sheets of paper. There’s a bowl on it, and Olruggio takes it before returning to his chair heavily. He reaches out the bowl, full of cool oatmeal, until Qifrey begrudgingly takes it, is slow to release it like he is worried Qifrey will drop it. It lays heavy in his lap. He sets it aside, despite Olruggio's look, and neither of them mention it. 

  Olruggio shuffles around a little more and pulls a few snugstones out of his pocket. He sets them around Qifery’s form in the blanket, and they’re too warm, but he doesn’t have the heart to say anything with Olruggio’s thoughtfulness. He closes his eyes, too tired to keep whatever it is they have going, and lifts a corner of the blanket. “Come in here, then. You look tired.” 

Olruggio gives him a long look, and Qifrey’s worried the fever got to him for a second. But then he stands from his chair, slides into bed without complaint. Their bodies are so close, and wife's aflame. He falls asleep burning. 

••●━━━ 𖤓 ━━━●••

Qifrey feels disoriented when he wakes up. He can’t find anything that could have startled him awake, and he hadn’t had a nightmare. He stares at the dark ceiling for a few moments, trying to get his bearings, until he’s startled by a sudden  “ ‘rSZCHh!”, and the previous hours start to drift back to him. 

“Bless you..” Qifrey murmurs, voice surprisingly present. He must have passed the worst of it, finally. “Are you okay?” 

Olruggio makes a thick, snuffling sound somewhere to his left. The bed is still warm, so he must have just gotten up. “Yeah,” he says, and then it’s quiet for a few moments until the floor creaks with his return. “I didn’t mean to wake ya.” He says, voice more rasped then it usually is when he wakes up, nuzzling back into Qifrey. He falls back asleep quickly, but he tosses and turns uncharacteristically. It eats at Qifrey, keeps him awake. 

It’s likely sometime after sunrise when Olruggio starts to stir again. He never really settled, and at some point Qifrey stopped trying to help him for fear of waking him up, so his limbs are knotted in the quilts. He doesn’t seem to notice, blinking slowly at Qifrey. “Good morning,” he tries, with a smile. Olruggio doesn’t say anything, just buries his head back against Qifrey’s chest and takes a slow, congested breath through his nose. Qifrey’s heart hurts. 

They stay like that for a while. Qifrey doesn’t want to move him, but his nose starts to itch at some point, and despite his fight he ends up jostling him with a sharp movement. “h’TShh-! ‘tSZhih!” 

Olly startles up, probably having been half asleep. Qifrey wants to apologize, but his nose isn’t satisfied, so he holds a placating hand and shields his mouth against his other one as he sneezes once again. Finally, he falls back against the pillow, pushing Olruggio back against his chest with a gentle hand. Olruggio doesn’t say anything for a long while, and when he does speak it's rough and painful sounding. 

“I think we’ll both be stuck in here for awhile,” he says, and there’s nothing saying he’s mad at Qifrey for it but he can’t help but feel so guilty, especially when Olruggio’s so busy. “Somebody’s got to tell the girls.” Qifrey hums, allows himself the pleasure of running one brief hand through Olruggio’s messed up hair. 

“I’ll do it.” He says, without making any move to get up. “I think I may be better off than you are, now.” Olruggio huffs at that. He doesn’t want to move, feeling kind of like Olruggio is a cat that won’t come back if he moves even the slightest bit. But he can hear birds, faintly, and the floor above him is starting to creak with life as his girls start to stir. No matter what he wants, he can’t leave them entirely alone. 

So he gets up, and Olruggio watches him leave with droopy eyes, and he smiles at the girls as they trickle in, passing off his own stuffiness as just a bit of allergies. When he serves their bowls, he finds himself suddenly famished, so he ends up scarfing down a bowl in the kitchen while they eat in the other room. Their quiet chatter is so warm, but the light in the kitchen spills out from the windows. His head aches. He has to bid his girls farewell, instructing them to learn on their own for a second day, and return to his room with an orange and paring knife. 

Olruggio makes no move to sit up from where he’s sprawled out in his absence, so he sits himself at the edge of the bed. “Are they doing alright?” He mumbles into the bedsheets. “Of course,” he replies, choosing not to tease him for his worrying this time. “They’re a bit concerned, though.” Olruggio hums. “Too smart for their own good.” 

Qifrey has to stifle his laugh. “I brought you food,” he says, holding up the orange even though Olruggio can’t see it. Fruit doesn’t count as a meal, really, but Olruggio tends to get upset stomachs when he doesn’t feel well, so he’s hoping it's good enough. Olly groans into the mattress, but he eventually shifts around until he’s sort of sitting up. His face looks pinched, and it isn’t long before he’s muffling a heavy sneeze into his elbow. “ h’rRSZhh-iuh!” 

 “Bless you,” Qifrey says, and Olruggio makes a lazy flapping motion with his free hand before gasping again. “ ‘rRSCHhh’iuh!” 

He was still grumbling as he went back to his work, a particularly fiddly contraption he was putting together with the Silver Eve procession in mind. He had already been growing tired before the interruption by Coco, having gotten precious little sleep over the past few days while he'd been working abroad and traveling, but now he found himself distracted too. His nose continued to tickle, no matter how much he swiped at it with the heel of his hand or the knob of his wrist, and after a few minutes of it he found himself teetering on the edge of a sneeze.

It was a relief when it finally crossed that invisible line, and he pushed back from his desk to catch the sneeze in the crook of his elbow. "hh'USHhoo!"

He froze there for a moment, waiting to see if a second was coming. When the sensation began to fade, he resurfaced, sniffling and blinking watering eyes.

If it had just been the single sneeze, he wouldn't have thought much of it, but several of them came upon him in the same manner over the next few hours, which was unusual enough outside of hayfever season that it gave him pause.

Maybe he was getting a cold. He'd just go to bed early (-er than usual) and hope he could sleep it off.

When the morning came and he felt fine again, he assumed that was what had happened. He'd been lucky, for once. Maybe he should start doing this (sleeping) more often.

He even went down to have a late breakfast with Qifrey and the girls, who he could hear chattering in the main room as he made his way over from his tower. Qifrey was working with Coco and Tetia on peeling some vegetables for a stew that Agott was poring over on the stove, while Richeh set about measuring out spices. The brushbuddy poked its head up from Richeh's shoulder when Olruggio entered the room and gave a cheerful "Pwee!~" in greeting, as if it was still appreciative of him drying it off the night before.

"Olly!" Qifrey said cheerfully. "Fancy seeing you up and about before noon."

"Yeah, yeah." Olruggio went over to dish up some of the sliced fruits left on the counter from the girls' breakfasts. "Got things to do, ya know."

The rest of the morning passed in quiet contentment, with the girls studying in their own workspaces and Qifrey puttering around collecting and setting herbs to dry in the kitchen. After Olruggio finished his breakfast, he decided to also bring his in-progress contraption down to the main room. He generally preferred to do his work in solitude, but Qifrey wasn't bothersome, and in fact Olruggio found that he did tend to get more work done when he was around. Something about the quiet familiarity of occupying the same space as Qifrey put him in the proper creative mindset.

However, after a few hours of work, he returned to the main room from a break to find that the brushbuddy had curled up on his draft signs, drawn no doubt to the drying conjuring ink. It was definitely cute, Olruggio thought as he approached the furry white creature curled into a cozy spiral, but it was still in the way.

"Go on now, get," he said gently, reaching out to nudge the brushbuddy with the back of his hand when it opened a sluggish eye. "Go find one of the girls."

It uncurled with a grumbly squeak and hopped from the table, then rippled across the floor towards Tetia and Richeh's rooms, where it knew it would be more welcome. Olruggio brushed some stray fur from his papers and got back to work.

Unfortunately his productivity was doomed to stay fractured, because a few minutes later, his nose began to itch again. It started as a tingle in the very tip, but as he sniffled and scrubbed at his nose with his finger with little luck, the tickle grew and spread until his sinuses were buzzing with it.

Finally, his nose had had enough, and he leaned away from his work to sneeze heavily towards his shoulder, elbow half-raised in anticipation. "hrUSHHhoo!"

But this one required a follow-up, he realized quickly, and he snapped towards his shoulder once more. "USHHieu!"

"Bless you!" Qifrey called from the kitchen.

Olruggio ignored him; Qifrey always seemed to find great pleasure in blessing him when he sneezed, but he knew better than to expect a response from Olruggio in return. But, frustratingly, it wasn't more than five minutes later when he had to sneeze again. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought his elbow to his face again expectantly.

"USHieu!"

"Bless you!"

"hih? — hh'USHieuhh!"

"…Bless you. Are you all right, Olly?"

Olruggio looked up, sniffling wetly, to see Qifrey poking his head around the doorjamb from the kitchen, a half-stripped bundle of sage in his hands.

"I feel fine," Olruggio protested, though a third sneeze had begun to creep up from the back of his thickening sinuses, and he knew he was going to require a handkerchief soon. "Just this blasted sneezing."

"Perhaps you're catching cold?" Qifrey offered with no absence of concern. "You have been traveling a lot lately and wearing yourself down."

"And have another trip coming up this evening," Olruggio said with an irritated cough. His throat did feel a bit off too, though it was more itchy than sore. It felt almost like the way he reacted to grass pollen, though it was the wrong season for it. He wasn't sure quite what was going on.

"I'm sure they'll understand if you can't make it," Qifrey said, though they both knew that wasn't necessarily true. Some of Olruggio's clients could be quite demanding.

Olruggio shrugged. "I'll be all right, no need to worry about me."

The symptoms persisted throughout the early afternoon, until he gave up on working and retreated to his tower to bathe. The steam and humid air helped clear the congestion that had begun to set in, and after he emerged and began to dress for his trip, he found he felt almost normal again.

A bit odd, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

And in a way that continued to be odd, his symptoms completely dissipated over the next few days while he worked with some townspeople in a village to the west. Perhaps it had just been a small cold and he'd gotten over it, he thought, mildly perplexed.

But then, to his consternation, they began again as soon as he returned to the atelier. He was chatting with the girls and Qifrey in the kitchen when the brushbuddy scaled him until it could perch happily on his shoulder, fluffed up and preening as it welcomed him home.

The urge to sneeze swept upon him like a gust of wind, and he took a hurried step back from Qifrey and leaned away for an itchy, irritated sneeze into his elbow. "hrr'USHoo!"

The brushbuddy squealed and clung more tightly to his shoulder with its little black feet, but a second, harsher sneeze dislodged it and sent it skittering across the floor to Coco, who scooped it into her arms, wide-eyed.

"Bless you!" She said, echoed by Agott and Tetia. Qifrey, oddly enough, said nothing at first. It wasn't until Olruggio had found a handkerchief to blow his suddenly running nose that he spoke up.

"Have you considered that you might be allergic to the brushbuddy, Olruggio?" He asked mildly. Tetia looked dismayed, and Coco looked down at the fluffy creature in her arms. "You said you weren't sneezing at all while you were away, and it started back up as soon as you came home."

Olruggio sniffled wetly. "It has been years since I've been around them," he admitted. "And I can't say I've ever lived with one before. It's possible."

"This is horrible!" Tetia cried. "Poor Master Olly!"

"Do we need to…get rid of it?" Coco asked in a tiny voice, her eyes wide as the brushbuddy tried to curl into the smallest ball possible, keening quietly.

"I can manage," Olruggio began to say at the same time as Qifrey said, "There is a medicine that should help with it. It's what you already take in the springtime, for the grass pollen."

Ah yes. It tasted foul unless it was in the form of a tea heavily sweetened with honey, and Olruggio was rubbish at remembering to take it, but maybe…

He shrugged. "I can do that. There's no need to get rid of the creature."

"We can make sure to sweep up more often," Agott said quickly. Olruggio was briefly charmed; he hadn't thought that the girl had cared much for the brushbuddy. Perhaps she was speaking more out of concern for her friends than out of her own love for the beast. "We'll make sure the main rooms stay clear of fur."

The brushbuddy had wriggled up onto Coco's shoulder, where it was half-hidden in her hair, but when Olruggio locked eyes with it, it gave a soft "pweeee" that sounded almost apologetic. He rubbed the back of his neck, abashed.

"It'll be fine, girls," he said, and sniffled.

And it was, overall. Taking the tonic, he would occasionally get sniffly or sneeze a few times if the brushbuddy made its way into his tower — apologetic or not, it did seem to be particularly fond of his writing materials, and once or twice his bed — but the girls held up their end of the deal, and they all benefitted from having a stricter cleaning schedule in the atelier.

"They would have been quite sad, if they'd had to get rid of the brushbuddy," Qifrey said one day to Olruggio as they were washing up. Olruggio had sneezed as soon as he'd entered the kitchen — the cooking spices in the air, as like as not — and Qifrey had blessed him merrily as usual. "Thank you."

"And break their hearts?" Olruggio scoffed. "Please. I didn't want apprentices of my own, but that doesn't mean I'm a monster."

I greeted him back. “Sort of,” I said, rubbing the grogginess from my eyes. It still weirded me out to have him there when I slept and woke. But we’d accepted each others’ culture. “Culture” was like playing a trump card for determining our living arrangements. 

I rolled out of bed and floated towards the dorms. “Coffee,” I said to the open air. The robotic arm appeared and handed me a pouch of liquid. It was nice to have a routine, even if there was no morning out in space. 

Once I got ready for the “day,” I headed up towards the lab, Rocky scuttling through the tunnels and pulling himself along with the rails. I had grabbed a chunk of xenonite from Rocky’s supply surplus downstairs. He assured me there was plenty to spare and that the materials cluttered in the bottom of my ship were only a fraction of his supply remaining on the Blip A. 

I’d messed with the xenonite when Rocky first came over, but I wanted to do some more testing. Maybe some other tools could make a dent in it, or I could gauge its influence on the stuff I did have. I gently pulled open a drawer, careful not to send any of the instruments floating in the cabin. They were always a pain to chase down and reorganize. I learned my lesson from the last time we left gravity. 

“What is Grace doing, question?” Rocky asked. 

“Well, I hit this stuff with a chisel last time and it didn’t make a dent. But I wanted to see if there was anything else I could do with Earth materials to affect the xenonite.” 

Rocky paced side to side, pondering. “Fire damage xenonite. Earth has fire.” 

I knew he was just trying to be helpful, but the suggestion was frustrating. I already figured that from the torches he used in assembling his rooms. The fact that the impossible material withstood anything I threw at it puzzled me. 

“Why sad face, question?”

“No, I’m not sad,” I shook my head. “I’m thinking. If I think really hard, sometimes it looks like I’m frowning.” For an alien, he was very observant of human emotions. 

Rocky clicked his claws together, his carapace lowering slightly as he relaxed. “Understand.” 

Xenonite was completely inert, but I could at least see how other materials interacted with this foreign one from a physical standpoint. I pulled out a pack of chalk and opened it, retrieving a stick. Simple calcium carbonate, a very familiar material. 

I rubbed it across the surface. Xenonite was so smooth, it didn’t cause any chunks to break off, instead leaving an incredibly fine layer across the material. When I rubbed my thumb across it, it left the surface completely unmarred, no trace of chalk remaining. With this xenonite stuff, chalkboards could make a comeback. 

I rubbed my fingers together, trying to get rid of the chalk. And then I immediately remembered why that was a terrible idea in zero gravity. When I inhaled, the chalk dust floated up my nostrils. I coughed, waving a hand in front of my face to clear the powder away, but it was too late. 

After months of breathing in ultra-purified ship air, the tiny particles from the chalk felt like an assault on my nostrils. On Earth, I was used to the air pollution, and a bit of chalk would have been unnoticeable. I didn’t realize how sensitive my nose had become in space. 

The itch to sneeze was unbearable, but I didn’t want to deal with the… mess that might float around as a result. I gasped, fighting the urge. 

“What is wrong, question?” Rocky asked, moving between his bars a bit frantically. 

I shook my head slightly, unable to speak. I held up one finger to Rocky while keeping the other pressed against the underside of my nose. 

Rocky remembered exactly what that one raised finger meant and slowed his pacing, still tilting forward in anticipation and puzzlement. 

Unfortunately for me, it seemed like I might not have a choice in the sneezing matter. I pinched my nose, but if anything, the forceful touch antagonized it. I doubt being gentler would have made a difference, though. “Hihh-! H-HEH’nNGHXX-guh!” 

Rocky hummed a follow-up question, still concerned. 

I blinked back tears. I guess the little guy had never heard me sneeze before. It certainly wasn’t something an Eridian would need to do, with their bodies designed to be completely self-contained. 

“It’s called a sneeze,” I answered. And it was the least satisfying sneeze I’d ever experienced in my entire life. Now my nose was itchy and leaky and stuffy. “Nothing’s wrong, humans do it automatically to get irritants out of their nose.” 

“Chalk is irritant!” He put it together now. “But you hold nose closed, question?” 

He had a good point. It defeated the purpose, and I probably wouldn’t get anywhere like this. 

“B-because,” I stammered. My breath caught as the urge to sneeze started to overpower me. I glanced around the room, looking for a cloth or tissues, but everything was stowed away. Curse my foresight to be tidy. I couldn’t even remember where the Kimwipes were kept. “Noses have… ha–EH’hNGCH! Heh’mpch!” I wasn’t giving up yet. 

“Noses have mucus inside to protect it. And I don’t want it to g-gehh.. get all over my lab.” 

Darn, this was getting really annoying. I could feel another one building. There would probably be something useful in the storage bins, or I could start tearing apart drawers, but I could barely focus through the hitching.

Rocky pondered the information. “Nose hold isn’t working,” he observed. Again, helpful. 

“Hehh’mNGXt!’ The itch in my nose was starting to go from mildly irritating to almost burning, which was even more uncomfortable. It seems like I might not have a choice at this point. I dropped my hand and quickly raised the neckline of my jumpsuit, pressing it tightly over my nose. “Oh god…heh Hyihh’CSHhuh! Hh’EHCHhmph! Heh…ngGCHOO!” 

Ugh. I kept the collar against my face, sniffling thickly. Not very dignified, but it did a pretty good job at containment. 

“Noses are strange. They smell and make humans explode. Weird.” 

I rolled my eyes, then blinked. “HYEH’ZCHHioo!” Ugh. I might have to keep the makeshift mask over my nose until the ship cycled out the air. 

“You know, on Earth, the polite thing to say when someone sneezes is ‘bless you.’” Another bit of human culture for him to analyze and question. I pushed off the lab bench in search of some Kleenex.