*listening to your explanation, twigs to a sense of incredulous outrage (the bitch carved you up like an Erumas turkey and you're categorizing your torture by relevance?)* *seriously, what the fuck is in the water over there*
*sort of feels like she's eavesdropping on a private conversation, too, for all that you seem aware of her* *no sooner has she twisted her mouth downward on a vague roll of nausea (she kissed me) (blood in my mouth) than she abruptly notices your face losing its color, your voice stuttering, gagging* Shit—
*grabs for the first container she sees, which is the pretzel bag, and yanks its top open and thrusts it toward you* Here. *can only hope to Eru the thing doesn't have a leak as you bury your face in the bag and heave up all of the liquor you've been slamming*