So there they all were in the courtyard, standing ten or so feet from all the vomit he'd given to the snow. It was done steaming, thankfully, and really he couldn't smell a thing out there in the cold. He almost had to remind himself how frigid it was outside since his skin felt so distant and elsewhere.
Lethe had stepped outside with them and closed the door behind. Ithacles told himself not to shiver and so he didn't. If he froze to death right there it would be an escape for the ages.
From the sound of it his sister was really letting Vedette have an earful. He kept waiting for the right moment to interject, but as soon as it arrived he forgot what he wanted to say. He sat there in silence with his arms folded, crafting a sentence word by word. He wanted to get it absolutely perfect.