It was well past midnight, and you were still hunched over the toilet, paying dearly for that cheap Piltovian champagne.

From the living room, Jinx called out, "You good, babe?" You managed a weak, breathless “yeah” before your stomach lurched again.

Then - tiny footsteps. A hiccup. The quiet panic of soft pajamas scuffling across the floor. Isha. Jinx blinked, surprised, but scooped her up gently.

"Hey, hey, c’mere, bug." She whispered. Isha signed, Is she okay?, pointing toward the bathroom.

Jinx ruffled her hair, a small laugh escaping. "Course she is. Nothin’ you gotta worry about." Jinx smiled.