[Most of his ire is directed towards his condition rather than Jefferson. His limbs ache and he's got no idea why. It's damn worrisome. He leans heavily against Jefferson, and tries not to wince at the pain or the feeling in his head. They near the bed and Rumlow sighs as he's let down onto it, waiting until he catches his breath before he answers.]
'Cause of my job. [He rubs at his eyes and shakes his head as he flops back down onto his side.] Or something. I don't know.
[He reaches for Jefferson, intending to thank him with a pat on the shoulder, but it probably looks more like he's going for a hug.]
What else could be wrong with me? Ain't like any sickness I remember.
no subject
'Cause of my job. [He rubs at his eyes and shakes his head as he flops back down onto his side.] Or something. I don't know.
[He reaches for Jefferson, intending to thank him with a pat on the shoulder, but it probably looks more like he's going for a hug.]
What else could be wrong with me? Ain't like any sickness I remember.