(other) Miguel and Open
The invitation had been for everyone, right? So that included him.
Even if he still felt terrible, all aches and pains from an enhanced metabolism struggling to find nutrients from whatever food he could force himself to eat and having to take it from his muscles instead. He was used to that sort of pain, though, so he could ignore it most of the time. The fever and exhaustion, though, were things he couldn't ignore. He'd been wiped out (again) for what felt like too long, but was little under two weeks. Thankfully, the worst was past. His temperature was fine now, back to being just a little too cold, and he was still tired, yes, but it wasn't bone-deep exhaustion so he could deal with it.
He'd lost weight again, though. The Norse woman that had been cooking had taken one look at him as he'd carefully sat down at a table, and within a handful of minutes, he'd had a bowl of some sort of soup, a plate of food and a drink of beer set in front of him. "I will get you and Bucky fed," she said, and then turned to go back to where she was cooking.
He tried the soup. It was really good, and just plain enough that it didn't bother his stomach. The beer wasn't very strong either, but it was dark in color and tasted amazing. The plate of food was all snack-sized, designed to be grazed on. It was more food than Miguel had had in a long time, and it would last him all evening.
The soup was hot, so he ate all of it first, and then took his watch off and propped it up against the empty bowl so Lyla could see some of what was going on around them and they could talk.