Thanks a lot! In that case, may I request 31 ("I'm not that sick!") from the "hospital" prompts ([your blog name plus tumblr dot com]/post/712265432276582400) with Grog and Scanlan, please?
31. "I'm not that sick!"
setting this pre-tlovm! tw: vomit
Back in Emon, and Scanlan has one thing on his mind. He's been singing a song under his breath all day, making it up as he goes, and he's running out of rhymes for "whorehouse." He's got his best leather pants on, his lute is tuned, the cube is trimmed. All he needs is—
"Grog?" He hasn't seen his giant friend since they all got back from clearing out a huge goblin camp about a day south of Emon earlier today. He and Grog share a room in this shitty inn they've found, but the big guy is nowhere to be found. He checks with Vax and Percy, but they haven't seen him, and when he knocks on the girls' door, Vex just yells at him to go away.
So he wanders down into the tavern area, which is dank and sticky but not in a fun way, but there's no towering half-giant to be seen. The barkeep knows nothing, the hot serving lady whose scrumptious butt is mercifully at Scanlan's eye level hasn't seen him, and Scanlan is at a loss.
"If that fucker left without me I'm gonna kill him." Scanlan stomps to the bathroom, needing to piss before heading off to the brothel on his own. When he opens the door, the first thing that hits him is the smell. He's been in some truly unspeakable lavatories in the worst dives in Tal'dorei, but this is something else. The second thing that he notices is the sound of violent, disgusting retching.
Jammed into a stall, his massive shoulders hunched in awkwardly, is Grog, whose entire spine ripples as he vomits up what Scanlan can only assume is a literal demon into the toilet. When he's done, he lets out a pitiful moan, his forehead crashing against the back wall.
"Geez, what did you eat?" Scanlan strums his lute, and his purple spectral hand appears, floating over to pat Grog's back.
"I dunno," Grog rumbles. "Couldn't read it." He reaches a hand back to point at something, and Scanlan follows the finger to see an empty bottle that rolled under a sink. He grabs it and reads Doctor Sigworth's Arcane Emetic and Efficacious Rat Poison. A crude drawing of a dead, vomiting rat is featured on the label.
"Buddy, you drank all of this?" Another sad groan. "If you weren't you, you'd be dead right now."
"I'm—ugh—I'm okay." With shaky arms, Grog pushes himself up to stand. "I think...I think it's all—" And another wave of bile spills out of him.
"That's it, I'm getting Pike." Scanlan turns to leave.
"No, no! What..." Grog pants. "...what about the lady house?"
"Yeah, I don't think even the cheapest courtesans in Emon are going to be into all of that." The purple hand gestures broadly at Grog. "We don't have the money to tip that much."
"What!" Grog turns to frown at him. "But I'm not that sick!"
Just then, Grog's stomach gives an ominous gurgle, and Scanlan has just the look of panic in Grog's eyes to warn him of what's coming. He leaps into the next open stall, barely dodging the spray of stomach acid that now covers the front wall of the bathroom.
"Okay," Grog gasps, bent over and wheezing. "Maybe I'm a little sick."
"You think?!" Scanlan shrieks. "You turn around! I'm getting Pike." Once Grog has obeyed, Scanlan storms out of the bathroom, grumbling under his breath. Now he's definitely not getting laid today.
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