"Should prob'ly stop eatin' dat shit den," he said mildly when she announced that she might be sick, but his hand went to touch her back briefly, as soothingly as he could muster when he had no real sympathy for her predicament at the moment. "You gon' feel like shit t'morrow, cherie."
He led her toward the high-drop, a ride that shot you about four stories into the air and then let you free-fall back down a few times. He liked the gravity-based rides more than the loops anyway.
"You t'ink you can fly?" he teased as they got into the short line.