Well. That was not what he had intended to come out, but he was a little too far gone to fully register the awful predicament his stomach contents had covered them in. A blink at Crane’s cryptic statement, and a look down at the results like it was an awful, surreal stage show and someone had missed with an off tomato.

Whatever had transpired hardly mattered. Crane called him his dear! It was time to purchase matching grave plots in the morn! … What was that smell? Oh, right.

“Upstairs, my sweet,” he answered hazily, another wave of nausea beckoning him to clutch his stomach.

He braced on the walls, world as steady as a snow globe for him. Caught words that sounded awfully appealing, though he could hardly pluck out one sentiment from another.

“Yes,” he said resolutely nonetheless.