When Conlan returned, Signy had moved her last position, crouching in front of the basin, and was about half curled up on the cold stone floor nearer the corner. She was horizontal, looking paler but less green about the gills. "Welcome back," she managed, from where her head was pillowed on her hands. Then, "A bowl full of poison? That seems excessive, and maybe not the best of ideas. It wasn't on purpose, was it?"
Then again, imbibing stupid quantities of lyrium was something she'd done on purpose, so, who knew? Her eyes went to the bucket; water, she hoped. She should probably wash her face, make sure her hair was clean, things like that; trying to drink anything right now was ranking high up on her list of worst possible plans. But for now, simply lying still and feeling something cool and stable underneath her was very good. Very soothing. Her eyes closed a bit more, as the sick wobbling of her innards calmed, momentarily. It always felt better right after she had a go at vomiting, even if the calm didn't stay awfully long.