Rodeo moves without hesitating when she doubles over, dropping off the edge of the fountain to crouch at Emilie's side. He winces, reaching for her tangles of dark hair, pulling them back from her face. He holds her hair back with one hand and grips her shoulder with the other, helping to hold her up so she doesn't collapse forward into the vomit on the floor.
"Godammit," he growls, the venom in his voice directed at himself and him alone. This is his fault. He presses his nose against the back of Emilie's shoulder, hiding his face there for a moment. He tries to steel himself against the shame, tries to figure out what the fuck he can do to repair some of the damage he's done. He finally takes a breath when Emilie has expelled all the soup she'd managed to get down, and he sits up and reaches for the bag. He dumps it out and brings the bag up, covering Emilie's mouth with it to wipe away the sick. "M'sorry," he's mumbling, unable to stop. "M'so sorry..." He drags in a ragged breath, sitting back and tossing the bag down onto the floor. He reaches for another can, taking his knife out once more and sawing off the top. "Please, just-- try again. Slow. Eat it slow. Just one-- one bite at a time. Can you do that? Please. You gotta eat something, baby, please." He has medicine for her, pills that will help ease the pain and nausea, but he needs her to eat first.