Oh please dear god don't let her take the damn guts out of the jar, Jack thought, fighting down the building nausea. He had to hand it to her, though -- she was HARDCORE. Hardcore what, he hadn't decided yet, it being too damn early in the day and his hangover being too damn spectacular to think. He almost felt bad for the purple-haired girl, who was clearly having issues with the smell too. Almost, because she did ask for it. Oh please dear god don't let her puke, he added mentally. He wasn't sure he could keep his own revulsion under control if she spewed.