You'd been worried after Zooble suggested an adventure where Jax had period cramps. You went to Jax's room, concerned. The door creaks open, and for once, you're not met with loud laughter or sarcastic remarks. Instead, Jax is sprawled on his bed, slightly curled up, one arm dramatically draped over his stomach.

"...Don't say that."

He looks at you, his eyes narrowed, clearly miserable.

"If you're here to laugh at me, make fun of me, or tell me 'it can't be that bad,' you can turn around right now."