The grin was ignored. "Maybe so," replied Nigredo, who crossed his good arm over to grasp at the broken, "but I can say the same for you. Besides--" He glanced away, his voice carrying throughout the room. "--throwing up helped." Not really, but the child could pretend.

Until Albedo mentioned drinking, that is. This brought honest confusion to the surface, and instantly, Nigredo glanced at the bottle resting on the table. "I don't think I should drink that again." He'd heard that had risks. And now that the child considered it, the fog from two rooms over had grown exponentially. He was having difficulty focusing on the objects in front of him.