Even though she's vomiting, even though it's very clear from the emphatic retching that the conversation is over, Jason can't help but throw in the last word, discarding it like litter out of a moving car, edges of every word sharp. "I don't even know where to begin with what's wrong with everything you've just said."

But he goes over to the bed and sits down beside her, resting a hand between her skinny shoulderblades. The sound of the gagging makes his own stomach tighten up, suddenly aware again of the pain in his head and the anger in his guts and the fact that he's digesting nothing but water and breathmints. "Alright, alright, calm down. You're making yourself sick."

Obviously.

He pulls her hair from beside her face and looks at her without pity but with actual concern.