In Ryan's opinion, whether or not Liam had popped some acid, the answer was simple: BJ would shove two fingers down his throat and make him throw up. Or he'd do it himself, if need be, but God, he hoped not. If Liam threw up and then stayed pretty much the same way he was now, then they needed a plan B. And neither of those involved hospitals, authorities or people who could meddle in their business.
Liam's ramblings on about spit didn't even register with the eldest Byrne, although his screaming at the sweater removal startled Ryan something fierce. "No one's gonna kill you with clothing, Liam, promise." He rolled his eyes. When Liam mentioned he was having 'the spins' Ryan eyed BJ. Could their little brother really have projected, dropped acid and gotten drunk all in the same day? He was divided between slapping him upside the head and praising his ability. Very soon the problem of who would shove their fingers down Liam's throat wasn't one to solve anymore, because the kid was rolling away to throw up all by himself. Ryan closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "Oh thank God," he breathed, shrugging at Bonnie's questioning look. His sister, meanwhile, was beginning the interrogation while Liam sat there blindfolded and Ryan felt shit get a little too surreal.