James saw it coming. He had seen his fair share of teenagers puking at parties. Not a lot, but his fair share. The signs were all there, James saw them, even with the distracting slight alterations to Davian's appearance. It was not in time to spare his expensive shoes, however. James could've strangled Davian just then, but he wouldn't want to get even more vomit on himself.
Standing with a look of mortified disgust, James still managed to keep his calm. He shot Paxton a look, wanting to point out that his brother had just thrown up on him because apparently Paxton hadn't noticed or didn't care, but instead, he only nodded. With a flex of his jaw, James moved away from the demons and the angel and walked with as much dignity as he could with a the slippery vile mess coating his shoes.
James spoke with the nurse. It took just a moment. He mentioned his name, said his father was highly invested in the health of his friend over there and the one already taken back, and could they please speak with someone who was accustomed to certain... body abnormalities.
Someone was called off their break to come keep an amiable name for the hospital in the Weatherby household. James caught Paxton's eyes and nodded again. It was done. Now could they please get out of this bacteria infested, open wound, reeking of sick humans, hell hole?