[ watching tsera slip against the blood and gore is one thing. being met with the stench of it face to face is another, with the damp of the blood slicking through his jacket, his shirt, onto his skin. juno can handle the stench of blood from a human, but from something as fucked up as that monster, it's sending his stomach curdling. ]
I'mgoodatfakingit—
[ he says it hurriedly, like getting the last word in is something his life depends upon direly.
and then he doubles over. his palms reach out and he grabs at his knees, heaving. the contents of his stomach? meager, a little whiskey, a little indistinguishable thing that they said was meat from a local food truck (it didn't taste half bad, so there's some regret for that), but even more regret that when he blinks he realizes he's hit tsera's shoes squarely with his vomit. ]
cw: emeto
I'mgoodatfakingit—
[ he says it hurriedly, like getting the last word in is something his life depends upon direly.
and then he doubles over. his palms reach out and he grabs at his knees, heaving. the contents of his stomach? meager, a little whiskey, a little indistinguishable thing that they said was meat from a local food truck (it didn't taste half bad, so there's some regret for that), but even more regret that when he blinks he realizes he's hit tsera's shoes squarely with his vomit. ]