eww vomit cw

[04:55 PM] Simon-Blackquill growled in frustration and swallowed down his continued urge to cough, looking away from Fool Bright as he continued his breathing. He knew the detective's behaviour was purely professional and that he had no desire to punish him. This was the kind of man that didn't want to hurt a fly. That much was evident by his immediate concern.

"No. I am sick to my stomach, and unless you like the idea of me ruining your carpet, I'd like to excuse myself," he grunted, actually telling the truth this time. He did feel like he was about to puke.



[05:16 PM] Bobby-Fulbright started at that response. Blackquill already hadn't been well, but apparently, this had been what could push him over the edge in that respect. Now he just felt even /more/ guilty about it. “A-aah! Right this way, sir! Right this way!”

He wasted no time with stepping towards the couch again,  reaching out to try and grab the man by the shoulders. That way, he could lead him to the bathroom in the most efficient manner. Getting that close to someone who'd just said he was about to puke was maybe not the best idea, but he wouldn't shy away from it, either.



[05:27 PM] Simon-Blackquill glared up at Fool Bright when he reached for his shoulders, but he wasn't exactly doing well enough to protest that. Besides, that was what he wanted anyway. To be shown the bathroom, that is.

He stood up slowly, by now his breathing having gone back to normal -- at least, as normal as it could be for him -- though at the closeness they were at, the detective would be able to tell that Simon was still sounding almost choked-up, like he'd inhaled some manner of toxic fumes. Standing up really emphasized that, yes, he was probably about to lose his lunch. Oh well.



[06:14 PM] Bobby-Fulbright assisted the best he could with getting Blackquill back on his feet, hoping to support some of the man's weight. Of course, that only meant getting even closer and now he could definitely no longer be oblivious to Blackquill's strained breathing. It was an outrage, really, that the prison's medic had done nothing worthwhile to help him.

“It's alright, it's not that far,” he muttered in a vague attempt to be comforting. With that, he began his attempt to guide Blackquill down the hall, toward the bathroom. … Well, at least the floor was laminate all the way. If something were to go wrong now, it wouldn't be /too/ bad. Still, he'd prefer it if Blackquill made it to the bathroom, at least.



[06:24 PM] Simon-Blackquill didn't find Fool Bright's words to be very comforting. He found them insulting -- condescending -- more than anything else. Even if it hadn't been closer, Simon would have been able to hold back for a while if necessary.

He started coughing again on the way down the hall, forcing him to lean on the other man for support while he brought a hand up to his mouth, noting how much he was salivating... combining that with the uncomfortable tightness in his throat indicated that he was definitely going to spill in a moment. Those were his main warning signs, since stomach pain happened frequently regardless.



[06:33 PM] Bobby-Fulbright was starting to realize that hindsight was an awful bitch. He should've just handed Blackquill a bucket, or a plastic bag, or... Anything else that could catch vomit that he could afford to lose or clean out. It was too late now. If he abandoned Blackquill in the hallway to go find something, he wouldn't make it back in time. They had to keep trooping towards the bathroom.

“Just a little further, sir...” Four more steps to get to the bathroom door and then the toilet bowl was right around the corner. Come on, surely they could make it there. /Surely/...



[06:43 PM] Simon-Blackquill coughed again, nodding his head when he heard the detective's voice. He took one stiff step, then two...

And that was it. Simon removed his hand from his mouth as he felt that uncontrollable urge to spit out all the excess saliva he'd been producing, and of course, he knew what that meant when he opened his mouth -- he'd failed to hold back long enough and ended up doubling over and vomiting all over the floor as well as... the detective's fancy-looking shoes.

Well at least there was a consolation prize for this failure, but at the cost of how embarrassed and flushed his face had become from doing something so disgusting in the middle of the hall. He was sure he had better control over this sort of thing. Sure of it. What went wrong?



[07:00 PM] Bobby-Fulbright took note of the way Blackquill's hand moved away from his mouth, yet despite that, still failed to react in an appropriate manner. When the man forcibly doubled over, he ducked with him in order to allow it and inevitably moved just a bit closer. The next second, vomit was being spewed over the floor before him, as well as his shoes.

... This was the first time he'd ever felt regret for not wearing socks.

A loud whoop of alarm escaped him. Or maybe it was more dismay than alarm. Both seemed appropriate. He scrunched his eyes shut for a few seconds, trying his very best to ignore the feeling of fluids seeping down his ankles and into his shoes. If he were the sort of guy who cursed, there would be a lot of that happening right now. However, he was /not/ that sort of guy. “Ah... That's... a shame.”