"Mm." He drank from the water bottle.
"We should go somewhere."
He lowered it. "You're on rest protocol."
"I know."
"You're not supposed to be exerting yourself."
"I know."
"The protocol specifically—"
"But." I looked at him from my horizontal position with the cat on my head. "We're both not working. I'm not playing. You're not—" I moved my hand. "We have time. We have nothing but time right now. And I think we should spend it somewhere that isn't your couch or my couch."
He looked at the water bottle.
"Somewhere warm," I said.
"Warm."
"With vitamin D."
"That's not how vitamin D—"
"Nathan."
He looked at me.
"I booked tickets," I said.
A pause.
"When?"
"Last night. After the pizza."
"Wesley."
"They're non-refundable."
He sighed. "Of course they are."
"The vitamin D is genuinely medical," I said. "For the concussion. Sunlight promotes healing. That's real. I looked it up."
"You looked it up."
"I did research."
He looked at the water bottle for a long moment with the expression of a man doing a calculation he's already done and arriving at the same answer.
"Where," he said.
I told him.
He looked at me.
"It has a beach," I said.
