Wheeling Gull Isle She's spending every weekend at my place

Of all the responses he'd witnessed to his wounds, this was... Different. The words had barely left his mouth before the boy was turning away and vomiting messily across the sand. It might've been offensive to him on any other day but -- somehow, it just seemed so funny. Titmouse had been subjected to a number of things but he'd never made someone sick like that before. To top it all off, it was like the boy knew he should've stayed composed and kept apologizing. Tit didn't think there was anything wrong with what happened. He shook his head as he heard more and more pleas, and then with a wheezy, huffing, useless laugh filling the air thinly, he explained, It okee, it okee — it wasn't like he'd gone out of his way to vomit. Can ged-oo samtheng for sick? he offered, but couldn't think of much that would help settle his stomach except for maybe... Poppies... But he doubted the wolves here kept a store of them.