Me: I'm cold. I think I'm coming down with something.
n.o.c.: No you're not. You just want to use up your sick days.
n.o.c.: That's shady.
Me: Oh, stuff and nonsense. I'm really cold. Definitely getting sick.
n.o.c.'s *ss: Pbbbbbbbbbfffffffffffffffffftttttttttttttbbbbbbb
Me: Arrrrrrrrgh! Dear Lord! (retch, retch) I'm dying! (retch, retch, retch) Why would you do such a thing?
n.o.c.: I was warming you up.