"It's not useless, dummy," says Johnny gently, fussing with his phone as he sends a text to Aziraphale. "99 and a half is a fever. A low one, but still. You probably have some kind of rift flu."

Text sent, he sets his phone down and goes back to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. "I don't really have anything that's good for it right now but I can go get some stuff." He brings the glass back and plunks it on the bedside table next to Gabe. "Until your pal gets here, we're treating you like a human. You need to hydrate. Drink up."

He barely notices how take-charge he's being - it seems like a pretty simple matter, really, Gabe's sick and fussy and has no idea what he's wrangling with. Johnny is an expert compared to him. Easy enough to fall into that caretaker role. He doesn't bother examining it.