“A whirlpool made flesh, almost.” Evian chuckled and took another slow drink of his mead before tilting it towards the redhead. “Over indulging, check. Vomiting up, check, though a bit earlier than most manage. And most people would go for alcohol, not every dessert the cooks have made that day.” As the girl glared at him, he watched one of the staff quickly whisk the used bucket away, leaving an empty one behind. He leaned back in his seat and drummed the fingers of one hand against the wood of the table. “You’re welcome, by the by.”

It was unusual, to say the least. These days most young ladies didn’t go out on their own, much less try to eat their sorrows away on their own. At least not at this time of day. So there was probably someone out there waiting on her, somewhere. He shook his head slightly - ruminations for another time, one that didn’t really change anything right now. This girl looked tough enough to handle herself if someone did try something, anyway. Or she would, if she wasn’t shaking a bit from her bout of upheaval, and the sugar rush. “Now then. If nothing else, I know sugary food probably turns the stomach now. You need something simple and plain. See if they have some wheat bread or the like. Help settle that roiling gut you’ve got going.” It was advice sore gained from one too many nights of troubled stomach himself - though her problem was not the same as what had caused his in the past.