A green jacketed arm pushes the door open, followed by two scuffed up leather boots. When Apollo finally gets a good view of Jackson's face, he's staring down at him, quizzically. Well, isn't someone comfy-- he's sorta jealous, Reid would never let him lounge around on the job like that.

Wait, wait... taking in the pallor of his skin, the irritated red of a cold-plagued nose. Oh gee, fantastic. He's sick.

Jackson takes a good step back, before addressing Apollo.

"I got some questions to ask you, about your neighbor-- three doors down, across the hallway," he says. "Work with me, and I'll keep this quick."