Buck sneezes. The entire team is huddled around Bobby on the grounds of the University of Southern California, trying to hear his incident rundown over firehoses, sirens, and cries for help— and Buck sneezes. "Bless you," Athena replies. "Two more and you're cut off," Chimney quips. "Sorry, guys," Buck croaks, wiping his hoodied forearm against his nose. "Cap?" Bobby shoots Buck a slightly concerned Dad Glare, but continues on anyway. Buck shouldn't be here, necessarily. He knows this. He's been sick with a stupid cold for two days. No amount of socks and hoodies seem to help, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Chills, aches, and mucus coming out his nose and down his throat, making talking just slightly to the left of miserable. But when a biohazard incident put his friends, his family, in danger? Of course he's here. There's nowhere else he'd rather be. Bobby is speaking to his on-duty firefighters as Buck leans over to Athena. "You're working on crowd control, yeah?" Athena flicks her eyes to him. "Yeah, you want to give me a hand?" Buck sniffles. "I bet I could help out. Big, tall, slightly contagious, people would back away from me real fast." Athena chuckles. "You give me your cold and you're gonna have to back away from me real fast." She pats him softly on the shoulder, rubbing her hand across his back in a comforting gesture. "Any questions?" Bobby turns to his crew, looking each of them in the eye, getting confirmation. Buck loves that about Bobby. Checking in, checking up, always.