(We open in the Pad's kitchen...in the dark. Emma fries eggs and bacon over the stove, while Peter and Davy load food into a large cooler.)
Emma: I'm just glad the stove's gas!
Davy: I'm glad that Mick ain't 'ere. 'E'd probably be crying over the fridge not working!
Peter: That's the second time in three day's the electricity's given out on us!
Emma: Mike's at Babbitt's, haggling over the rent and the electrical problems. He's going to be in a foul mood when he gets in.
Davy: 'E was when 'e left.
Peter: (Loads vegetables into the cooler) I just want to be able to rehearse! We have a gig coming up for the first time in a month, and we've only been able to play with my banjo, the drums, the piano, and the tambourine for the past few days.
*The front door opens & is immediately followed by a groan.*
Micky: Don't tell me the power's out again!
Davy: Okay, mate... we won't tell ya.
Emma: Took the words right out of my mouth, Davy.
Peter: Mike went over to Babbitt's to see if he can get him to fix it or hire someone to do it.
Micky: I wish him luck with that. *plops on the couch, leaning his chin into one hand & sighing*
Emma: Don't worry, Mick. I was able to salvage some eggs, bacon, blueberry muffins, and orange slices for breakfast.
Micky: I'm glad you saved the food, but that wasn't what my sigh was for.
Peter: And I'm going to make Davy and I some skillet-fried vegetables.
Emma: What's wrong, Mick? (Turns an egg over)
Micky: Well... as you know I've got the house just about finished... but when the plumber was putting in the upstairs sink, he found a problem with the pipes. So, he couldn't put the sink in & had to redo all of the pipes in the bathroom.
Peter: Oh no, Mick!
Emma: Oh man, that'll set you back weeks!
Micky: I don't know if we'll be able to fully complete everything before Lauren has the babies. *rubs at the bridge of his nose*
Davy: Oh, man...
Peter: I'm sure it'll be ok, Mick. This is just a little set-back.
Micky: We initially got in the wrong size windows & doors, we got the wrong fixtures for the kitchen, it took three weeks to get the matching door knobs... *shakes his head* I'm losing my mind...
Emma: I think we all are. The electricity around here has been a pain for weeks now, and you just helped replace those pipes in the downstairs bathroom sink. (She puts a plate of bacon, eggs, oranges, and toast on the table for Micky) Here you go. Breakfast might cheer you up. Where's Lauren, anyway?
Micky: Thank you. *shakes his head* She's not feeling well, again.
Emma: Morning sickness? (She takes some of the vegetables from the cooler and begins chopping them)
Micky: That never goes away apparently.
Emma: Oh, dear. Is she ok? Does she need anything? (She adds the vegetables to the pan and slices more oranges as the veggies cook)
Micky: In her own words, she needs those kids out of her NOW! *shovels his food into his mouth*
Emma: All right, she's not ok. Anything I can help with? (She loads toast, vegetables, and oranges onto plates for Davy and Peter)
Peter: Thanks, Em!
Davy: Thank you, luv. At least we'll get a good meal.
Emma: You're welcome, boys.
*Micky wolfs down his food, burps, & pushes his plate away.*
Emma: (Shakes her head) Your appetite will never cease to amaze me, Mick.
Micky: *slight grin* And I wasn't even that hungry to start with.
Peter: Micky, you really should...ow! (Peter was about to bite into his vegetables, but he ends up holding his cheek instead)
Davy: Petah, wot's wrong?
Peter: Oh, nothing. (He tries to bite again, but again ends up holding his cheek) Ouch!
Micky: *turns to look over the back of the couch* What's wrong, Pete?
Emma: Peter, is something wrong with your tooth?
Peter: (Gulps) N...no. Nothing's wrong. Why would you say that?
Emma: You bit into the potato hash and screamed bloody murder.
Davy: Not to mention you were cringing when eating oatmeal yesterday.
Peter: My tooth is, um, a little sore. Nothing to worry about. (He bites into a toast and ends up yelling again)
Micky: Peter, I think you need to see the dentist. That scream is not normal.
Peter: Micky, I don't need to see the dentist! I'm fine, really.
Emma: (Joins Peter with a plate of eggs, toast, and vegetables) You aren't afraid of the dentist, are you?
Peter: N...no, of course not.
Micky: Peter...
Peter: I just...it's so much money...
Emma: Peter, my job has dental insurance. I'm sure that could cover your visit.
Micky: Besides, the rest of us could pitch in a little.
Peter: (Whimpers) What if he hurts me? What if he uses (whisper)...the drill?
Micky: *stands & joins them, standing but with a hand on Peter’s chair, at the table* That's what the novacaine is for. You won't feel a thing!
Peter: (Whimpers) I don't like drills in my mouth! What if he drills straight through to the other side?
Davy: 'E won't do that, Petah!
Emma: Peter, the dentist is there to help you, not to hurt you. He knows what he's doing.
Peter: That's what I'm afraid of.
Micky: What if one of us goes with you?
Davy: Yeah, mate, any of us would be more than 'appy to go!
Peter: Micky, would you go with me?
Micky: Sure! I kinda need to go back to the eye doctor next door since I sorta... broke my glasses.
Emma: What? How did you do that?
Micky: *rubs the back of his neck* Knocked them onto the tile floor in the kitchen yesterday.
Emma: And that broke them? I knock my glasses over all the time...
Micky: Cracked the frames & shattered one of the lenses... & I kinda forcefully knocked them onto the floor... by way of throwing them.
Davy: *groans* Mick, why would you do that?
Emma: Ohhhhh. Mad over the pipes?
Micky: *sighs* Everything.
Micky: That's the other half of why I'm here & not helping Lauren. She kinda got mad at me for doing that.
Davy: I 'ate it when you say 'kinda,' mate. Nothing with you is 'kinda.'
Emma: Huge arguement?
Micky: Yeah.
Emma: She kick you out?
Micky: I kinda--uh, I kicked myself out.
Peter: I'm sure she'll be ok in an hour or two, Mick. She's never mad at you for very long.
Micky: I know. That's why I figured I'd let her be for a little while.
Davy: *shakes his head* Mick... *scratches at his chin*
Micky: Got an itch, there, Dave?
Davy: Yeah, I do, actually.
Emma: (Goes to Davy and starts checking his face) Davy, are you ok? Maybe you're allergic to the vegetables...
Davy: I've 'ad 'em before...
Micky: Pete, did you use some different seasoning? Because, Dave, I can tell your face is turning red even in this dim light. *goes to his other side*
Peter: Davy, what's that red spot on your chin?
Davy: It's the thing I'm scratching at!
Micky: Which is what's turning your face all red.
Davy: Must be a bug bite...
Micky: No, I think... *slight smirk* I think it's a pimple, Dave.
Davy: Wot? No way!
Davy: I want a second opinion!
Emma: Davy, take it from a girl who saw both her sisters through break-outs. That is a zit.
Davy: *eyes widen* I want a third opinion!
Micky: Knock it off, Dave.
Emma: Davy, go buy some zit cream. I know where they have it at the Acme.
Davy: But--!
Micky: Your face is rebelling. Get over it.
Davy: Yeah? Well, your's is kinda looking that way, too. Or are you always that shade of green?
Emma: Oh dear. Micky... (She swings over to Mick)
Micky: *eyebrows raise* I'm fine!
Peter: Micky, does your tooth hurt, too?
Micky: My teeth are fine... *swallows hard*
Emma: Micky... (She goes to him) You do look pale.
Micky: It's... it's the light in here... or lack there of.
Davy: Mate, if you grip my chair any 'arder, you'll break it. *turns to look at Micky's hands* Your knuckles are turning white. You're 'olding yourself up, aren't you?
Emma: (Feels Micky's forehead...and draws back) Oh my lord! Micky Dolenz, you're burning up! Let me take your temperature. (She runs for the bathroom)
Peter: Micky, are you feeling sick?
Micky: Maybe... a little...
Davy: Are you sure that was morning sickness Lauren 'as?
Micky: No.
Micky: She's been feeling off for the last couple days.
Micky: We were arguing because I wanted her to go see the doctor, but she didn't want to, saying it was just a cold.
Peter: Micky, what if she's really sick? The babies could get hurt, or Lauren, or both!
Micky: Don't you think I know that? I couldn't get her to go.
Davy: 'Ere, Mick, why don't you sit down... before you fall down. *gets up to let Micky have his chair*
Micky: *slides into the chair, then rests his head on his arms* Thanks.
Emma: (Comes out with her thermometer) Ok, Mick, open your mouth. You know the usual rules. Don't bite it, keep it under your tongue for five minutes, and don't try to talk while it's in there.
*Micky sits up enough to comply & ends ups propping his chin in his hands, finally looking as weary as he feels.*
Davy: If it weren't so dark in 'ere, we would've noticed when you came in, Mick.
Emma: (As she cleans up the breakfast dishes) Well, this is a fine kettle of fish! Davy, I have work this afternoon, and I get paid today. I'll pick you up some zit cream after I finish.
Davy: *mumbles* It isn't a zit.
*Micky snorts.*
(Mike storms in at this point, his face red and his eyes flaming.)
Mike: That man is the biggest jerk.... (He lifts his fist to put it through a wall, then lowers it and thinks better of it) Damn it! (He ends up kicking a chair instead)
Davy: I take it things didn't go well.
Mike: He wants the rent by next week, or we're gone...or worse, he'll start lookin' for another boarder like Millie.
Davy: Oh, man...
Emma: I thought you guys liked Millie.
Mike: We do like Millie. She's a great lady, and she makes the best cheesecakes in the world. We just don't like her in our house...or anyone else besides you girls.
Emma: I'm sorry, Baby, but this isn't YOUR house. It's Babbitt's house, and legally he can bring in whomever he wants to.
Mike: Yeah, but we got lucky with you girls...and we were lucky we got Millie to move out. How much longer will our luck hold out? What if we get someone who don't even dig "Sometime In the Morning?"
*Micky lifts his head, his eyes wide... & thermometer sticking out.*
Davy: *claps Micky's shoulder* 'E didn't mean it, mate. 'O wouldn't dig that song?
Emma: I don't know how anyone could NOT dig "Sometime In the Morning." That song is so pretty. (She goes to Micky and takes out his thermometer) 102.3. It could be worse, but yes, Micky, you have a temperature.
Mike: He WHAT? We have that gig soon!
*Micky just moans & thumps his head back down on his arms.*
Davy: But it looks like Mick's got the flu.
Emma: Micky, I want you to stay here until you're better. You can sleep upstairs. Mike, you sleep with Davy and Peter for a few days until Mick is feeling better.
Mike: Now wait a minute, darlin'! Micky has a pregnant wife he has to take care of!
Emma: No, he has a pregnant wife who is sick as well, and whom I need to have a stern chat with.
Davy: *nods* That's right. ‘E must’ve got it from 'er.
*Micky moans again... then jumps up quickly, headed for the bathroom.*
Emma: Oh good grief. Davy and Peter, set a cot up for Mike. Mike, get anything you'll need for the next few days and bring them downstairs. I'm going to call Lauren. At least the phone's still working
Mike: Hold on just a minute there!
Emma: (Takes the phone and dials Lauren and Micky's number, ignoring Mike's sputtering) Hello, Lauren?
Lauren: *sounds rather weary* Hello? Em?
Emma: Lauren, are you ok? Micky has the flu. I just took his temperature. It's over 100.
Lauren: *groans* Oh no... *sighs* I'm feeling better, just tired more than anything now. Is Micky there? I--I wanted to apologize to him...
Emma: He's in the bathroom, losing his breakfast.
Mike: Em, I don't wanna sleep downstairs!
Emma: (To Mike) Micky can't have the basement. It's too drafty. And it'll be easier to expel one person than two.
Lauren: Poor Mick...
Emma: (To Lauren) Are you sure you're ok? You do have two babies in there...
Lauren: I swear, Em, I do feel alot better, just tired. I wasn't really thinking straight while I was sick... that's why I wanted to apologize to Mick.
Mike: Eeeemmmm...
Emma: (To Mike) Don't "Eeemmm" me! You're sleeping downstairs, and that's final! Micky's sick! (To Lauren) I'll tell him when he gets out... (Sees Micky stagger out of the bathroom) Oh, here he is!
*Micky doesn't pay attention as he makes his way back to the couch.*
Lauren: How's he look?
Emma: Pale. (Puts a hand on the receiver and calls) Hey Mick, Lauren's on the phone! She wants to talk to you.
Micky: *turns in the general direction of Emma's voice* Gimme...
Mike: Say, "please."
*Micky glares at Mike.*
Emma: (Sighs) I won't deny a sick man the right to talk to his wife. Here you go, Mick. (She gets out of his way and goes to make Mike breakfast as Micky takes the phone)
Micky: *weary* Babe...?
*Micky listens as Lauren does all of the talking.*
Davy: *comes out of the bedroom* Wow, this is a first for Mick.
Mike: (As Emma brings him eggs, bacon, toast, coffee, and oranges) Yeah, this is the quietest I've heard him in years.
Emma: (Joins Mike with a cup of green tea) Oh, stop!
Peter: (As he comes out of the bedroom) The cot is set up for you, Michael.
Mike: Darlin', can't I sleep in your bedroom? I won't peek, Scout's honor.
Emma: Sorry Baby, not yet. Not for another month.
Mike: But...
*Micky mumbles what's sounds like "Love you, babe," then holds out the receiver to be hung up.*
Davy: I'll get it. *gets up & takes the phone from Micky*
Emma: So Mick, what did she say?
Micky: Said she was sorry about arguing over being sick & that she gave it to me. She also called the eye doctor to order my glasses.
Mike: Good.
Emma: Will it cost much?
Micky: *cringes* She said she'd take it out of my hide... *tries to chuckle, but he ends up coughing*
Emma: (Sighs) Micky, go upstairs and jump into your old bed. I made it up just yesterday. (Rolls her eyes) And don't jump literally, please.
Micky: *slightly shakes his head* Don't wanna jump. Might puke all over the place. *heads for the stairs & goes up slowly, gripping the railing for all it's worth*
Emma: (Sighs) He's going to need some aspirin. I'll give it to him with orange juice. Peter, could you bring him the orange juice? He knows where the aspirin is upstairs.
Peter: Sure! (He takes a glass out of the cabinet, pours some orange juice, and heads upstairs)
Davy: Aren't we just a fine looking bunch? *scratches at his chin again*
Mike: Davy, what's with the scratchin'? You and Mick been' rollin' around in the poison ivy plants again?
Emma: He has pimples.
Davy: It's isn't a pimple!
Mike: Ain't nuthin' wrong with that. I've been coverin' up zits for years.
Emma: And even I get them every now and again.
Mike: In fact (he touches Davy's cheek) I think I see another red spot right here...
Emma: Mike, don't touch it! (Grabs his hand) More oil will only make it worse! Davy, stop scratching and go wash your face with hot water and strong soap!
Davy: *eyes wide* Gladly! *rushes for the bathroom*
Mike: (Groans) This is just great. What are we going to do about that gig?
Emma: Maybe you could get someone to replace Micky...
Peter: (Comes down) I'm going to get Micky some comic books and old drum books to make him feel better.
Emma: Peter, how's your tooth feeling?
Peter: Still sore.
Mike: Pete, your tooth hurts?
Peter: (Nods, then frowns) They want me to go to the dentist!
Emma: Davy can go with you, Peter. Micky's not going to be up to it.
Davy: *returns from the bathroom, drying his face off* Did I just 'ear I'm going with Petah to the dentist now?
Emma: Yes you are, Davy. Mike and I both have work today, and Lauren's still recovering from being sick herself.
Davy: Okay, I'd be glad to.
Mike: And I have to go back to Babbitt and see if I can get an extension on the rent, or at least get someone to fix the electricity. (Makes a face) And Dave, you're going to have to take the jeep. The MonkeeMobile's acting up again.
Davy: Again? *sighs & nods* Alright.
Mike: I don't know what's with that damn car. It does what it wants.
Emma: Don't look at me. I don't know anything about cars. I don't even drive.
Peter: I think the MonkeeMobile's just being cranky.
Mike: Her an' everythin' else.
Davy: Ain't that the truth.
Micky: *voice floats from the room upstairs; whiny* Peeeeete... where's my books?
Peter: (Sighs) I'm coming, Mick! (He grabs a pile of comic books from the bottom of a bookshelf and runs upstairs)
Mike: (Groans) We're gonna have to listen to Mick fuss until he gets better. Swell.
Emma: It's only until he's better, Mike. He doesn't need to make Lauren sick again.
Davy: *grins* One of us could always use our powers to put 'im to sleep.
Mike: I'll do it. (He goes upstairs)
Peter: I hope he doesn't catch it, too.
Emma: To hear him talk, he NEVER gets sick.
Davy: I 'ope none of us catches it.
Micky: *from upstairs; whiny* Noooo, Mike... don't wanna...!
Davy: Figures 'e'd put up a struggle.
Mike: It's for your own good, Mick!
Micky: Nooo! Gedawayfromme!
Mike: Mick, so help me...
Micky: Nooooo! *pauses* Oooooohh, don't feel good...
Mike: Shit! Mick... (There's the sounds of scuffling, then a groan from Mick. Mike comes down after that, smirking)
Mike: Just in time.
Davy: Do we even wanna know?
Mike: No. That was a VERY close call.
Davy: Sounded like it.
Emma: Now that we're done dealing with Mick, time to deal with the next problem. I'm going to call the nearest dentist.
Peter: Em....
Emma: Peter, you can't keep screaming every time you eat something. (She goes to the phone book and pages through it)
Mike: Pete, you're screamin' when you eat?
Peter: (Nods) My tooth hurts, but I don't want the dentist to drill me!
Mike: I'm sure you'll be fine, Pete. All that stuff you hear about dentists are just myths.
Davy: That's right, mate. Besides, I'll be there the 'ole time!
Mike: That's right, Pete. We ain't gonna let anythin' happen to you or any of us.
Emma: (Nods) Remember? We take care of each other.
Peter: O...ok...
Davy: I might even do a little something to 'elp you out when you're in there. *winks*
Peter: Really?
Emma: Here's one. It's a lady too. Dr. Anderson. (She goes to the phone to call her number)
Mike: But what about the gig?
Emma: (Over her shoulder) Maybe Mick will be better before it.
Mike: He'd better be. It's just been one damn thing after another lately.
Davy: *sighs* Seems we've 'it our share of bad luck. Atleast aftah this, we should be fine for a year!
Mike: I hope so. I'm goin' crazy. I can't take anythin' else goin' wrong.
Emma: Thank you, Dr. (She puts the receiver on the cradle and turns to the boys) Ok, Peter, you'll be going to the dentist tomorrow at 11AM. She said she normally doesn't take people so fast, but she just had a cancelation 20 minutes before we callled and had a slot open.
Mike: Well, that's a relief.
Davy: See that? Things are looking up already.
Mike: I hope so. Why does everythin' have to go wrong at the same time?
Emma: Things just happen that way sometimes. (She joins Davy and Mike at the table)
Peter: I hope the lady dentist is nice. (He joins them, too)
Davy: I'm sure she'll be great, Petah.
Peter: I'm still a little nervous (sighs) but as long as she's nice...
Mike: It'll be ok. (Adds a sigh) Maybe I could get Mick to help with the car when he feels better.
Davy: I'm sure 'e'll be glad to 'elp with the car.
Emma: (She goes to the stove) I'm going to bring Lauren some of the chicken soup I made last night. Micky can have the rest.
Mike: I'm gonna work on the car. (He goes to get his overalls)
Peter: I guess I'll work on some songs on my banjo while the electricity's out. (Suddenly, the lights go back on) Hey, they're working again! :D
Davy: Finally!
Davy: *turns* Petah... 'ow bad does my face look?
Peter: You have another little one right there... (He points at the right side of Davy's nose)
Davy: *frowns* I suppose it was bound to 'appen soonah or latah.
Peter: Davy, most people get zits. I had them when I was younger, and I still sometimes get them. I might still have some pimple cream upstairs. I know Mike does. (Grins) But don't tell Mike I know. He covers them.
Davy: I know. *shrugs* I always felt lucky that I didn't have to deal with them. I'm feeling better about them now. Thanks for being 'onest with me, Petah.
Peter: You're welcome, Davy. (He grins) Want to add your tambourine to my banjo? Maybe we could work on some of my new songs. (Softer) But quietly. We don't want to wake up Mick!
Davy: I'd love to, Petah, but I think the tambourine might be too loud. I think I'll go look in on Mick, see 'ow 'e's faring. Mike might've put 'im to sleep just in time, but... I just wanna check on 'im.
Peter: I'll go with you. It might help if he had two people to talk to.
Davy: *smiles* Okay.
Davy: Lets go see 'ow Sleepin' Ugly's feeling.
Peter: (Laughs) Sure.
*They go up the stairs & into the bedroom where they find Micky sleeping fitfully.*
Davy: Oh dear. 'E don't seem to be getting much rest like this.
Peter: Maybe we ought to wake him up.
Davy: *nods* I think we should. I'll do it. *goes up to Micky & drags his fingertips across Micky's warm forehead*
*Micky blinks his eyes open & groans.*
Micky: Whadayawant?
Peter: Mick, how do you feel? (He puts his hand on his forehead) You're still warm.
Micky: Like shit... sorry, Pete... *gives a faint grin*
Peter: That's ok. You're not yourself, Micky. You're not feeling well.
Davy: *nods* You were tossin' & turnin' pretty good when we came in. That's why I woke you.
Micky: *rolls his eyes* Think it was a nightmare... Don't remember it, though.
Peter: A nightmare? Oh man, Mick...
Micky: *winces as he tries to sit up a little* I don't understand them. They come & go. Some I remember, some I don't...
Peter: How long have you had them?
Micky: *looks down* Since we first encountered Zero...
Davy: *eyes widen* That's been well ovah a year, Mick!
Peter: Do you think they have something to do with Zero?
Micky: *slight shrug* I don't know... maybe.
Peter: What are they usually about?
Micky: *still looking down; chews his lip; uneasily* Bad--bad things happening to us... Sometimes... it's me doing... bad things...
Davy: Mick, man...
Peter: (Strokes Micky's curls) Oh Micky, you'd never hurt us! You're our friend!
Micky: *looks up, but his eyes are haunted* I know I wouldn't! But--but that's what I see! I--I never wanted to tell--tell you guys!
Davy: *blue lights a glass of water in his hand* 'Ere, Mick, 'ave a drink of watah.
Micky: *takes the glass; quietly* Thanks.
Peter: Micky, you have to believe us. We know you're our friend. We know you'd never do anything to hurt us. Sure, we're having a lot of trouble right now, with the car and you being sick and everything, but it'll smooth out soon.
Micky: *holds the glass in his lap* I believe you. I could never do anything to you guys. Those dreams... just scared me. Why would I have them?
Peter: (Sighs) I wish I could answer that and make you feel better, but I really don't know. Maybe they're trying to tell you something.
Micky: That's what I'm afraid of. *pauses, then groans* I wish my stomach would stop doing backflips...
Micky: I knew I should'n't've eaten breakfast...
Davy: *half grin* But you did, anyway.
Micky: *sighs* Yeah. *groans again*
Peter: Oh dear. (Emma comes in with a bowl of chicken soup as Peter rubs Micky's back)
Emma: Here you go, Mick. Something for that poor stomach. (Frowns) He doesn't look good.
Peter: Emma, I think he needs a bed pan.
Micky: *slight nod* Please...
Davy: And grab us something to covah up with, too.
Micky: *pained* Funny, Dave...
Emma: Oh man... (She puts the tray with the soup on the bed across from Micky and runs downstairs)
Peter: Maybe we'd better leave you alone now, Mick. Emma will come up to help you in a minute.
Micky: No... guys... please stay. I don't... I don't wanna be alone...
Davy: *shrugs* I've got nothing else to do today.
Emma: Here you go, Mick. (She brings him a yellow plastic container and a small bag) Here's a bag of peppermint drops. Mom used to give them to us when we had stomachaches.
Micky: *tries to smile* Thank you, Em.
Emma: The soup is there when you're up to it.
Micky: *slight nod* Thanks.
Davy: Want a peppahmint? *holds up the bag*
Micky: Yes... please.
Davy: *as he opens the bag* 'Is mannahs are back.
Emma: That must mean he's feeling a little better.
Mike: (He joins them, now clad in overalls) Hey, gang. Mick, how ya feelin'?
Micky: Uh, well... I guess a little better. Stomach's still doing backflips, though.
Mike: I really think we should let him rest and eat his soup now.
Peter: (Strokes Micky's curls again) But remember, Mick, you're not alone.
Emma: That's right! Mike and I both work late today.
Peter: And Davy and I have no plans at all.
Davy: *notices Micky's slight frown* Gang, I'll stay with 'im. I get the feelin' 'e ain't ready to 'ave us all fly the coop yet.
*Micky gives a quiet sigh.*
Emma: Peter and I will be downstairs if you need us.
Mike: And I'll be outside with the car.
Davy: *nods, smiling* Thanks, mates.
Emma: You have a good rest, Mick! Don't stay too long, Davy. You don't want to get sick, too.
(She and Mike go downstairs. Peter smiles.)
Peter: It'll be ok, Micky. I know it will!
Micky: Thank you, Big Peter.
Peter: You're welcome. (He heads downstairs, too, leaving Davy and Micky alone.)
Micky: *sighs* I must seem like a big baby.
Davy: *shrugs* Nah, not too big. I'm kidding, mate. It's allowed when you're sick. Besides, I really did want to stay. I've got nothing to do today... & you are me best friend. Wot're friends for?
Micky: *smiles* Thanks, Dave. *settles back* I think... I'll get some rest, then see how I feel about that soup. *points off to the side* There's a whole pile of comics if you get bored.
Davy: *glances at the pile* I might just polish those off. *smiles* Get some sleep, Mick. I'll be at the window, reading.
*Micky nods & closes his eyes, as Davy grabs a couple comics & goes to sit at the window, as we fade out.*