She laughed at his list of ever-more ridiculous things she might have done, surprised and amused and immediately regretting it as her stomach rumbled threateningly. So the laugh turned into a sort of "ugh" most of the way through, and Signy bowed her head slightly. "No, nothing like," a grin still crossed her face, despite the queasy rocking of her stomach, as if it were moving back and forth without her. Oh dear. "Nothing like that, and I'm sure I'd lose that kind of a contest awfully. I might be in worse shape. I just… it's a problem I've had for a while. I just can't keep from drinking highly dangerous substances, I think."
It made it somewhat less intimidating to form it as a sort of joke—as if becoming a mage, and then a Grey Warden, was some sort of lark she engaged in, or something she did just for the test of her stomach's strength. Which was poor, it seemed; she was growing paler, and looked up at Conlan again. "You might want to move, I thi--Yes."
And, praying that he did so, Signy Dagna lunged for the basin and, with a wet, ugly series of coughs, began another session of hacking up the contents of her stomach. It was, mercifully, relatively brief; there wasn't much left to get rid of at this point.