Imri: Good evening!
We have, ah . . . unfortunate news about your friend.
Teal: Wh–? Oh no! Is he dead? Did the winter fever get him?
Stanczia: Dear me, no.
Imri: Stanczia, love, can I tell her?
Stanczia: Of course!
Imri: You see — technically, he died with the brumavirus, not from the brumavirus.