"Probably." Honestly, Andrew could care less about the job if it meant that he could stay curled up in bed with Jack for a few more hours and have his friend pet his hair.
"Good plan..." he filled in what he could about a 'potentially contagious virus' - might as well give himself a few more days off - and then turned to push his bedroom window open and call for his owl, a mean bastard of a thing that proceeded to tear Andrew's fingers up while he attached the message.
He sat back down when the owl had gone, damaged hand before him and dripping blood onto the duvet. "Well... now that there's blood on the note I don't know what they'll think."