"Blah!" Roman gagged, throwing up for the third time. He heaved and groaned, clutching the toilet like it was his last lifeline, riding out whatever cursed thing the pixies had fed him.
"I think I'm dying," he moaned pitifully, forehead pressed against the cool porcelain.
"You're not dying," Griffin said, patting him on the shoulder. "Just… don't go to strange parties at night."
From the corner, Alaric—who was supposed to be providing moral support—snorted.
"Yeah, laugh all you want," Roman muttered, rolling his eyes.
"You should be grateful it's not diarrhea," Alaric said dryly.
Roman opened his mouth to fire back, but another violent wave hit him. He lurched over the toilet and started hurling again, loud enough to make Griffin wince.
On the bright side, the serpent wouldn't be creeping out its hiding place anytime soon.
