Food poisoning. The last time they let Soap choose a sketchy restaurant. Gaz wanted to leave mid-meal as soon as he saw a rat crawl around his feet, but Soap brushed it off. Possibly one of his worst mistakes.

Karma hit him like a freight train with food poisoning. Soap was the one who had the worst case. Price and Ghost were the runner-ups, while Gaz was luckily unaffected.

Price cursed at Soap with every ounce in his weak muscles once in a while, his voice echoing through the hallway. Scottish curses were heard right back. Meanwhile, Ghost hadn't left his room, most likely trying to sleep it off if that was even possible.

Laswell rubbed the sides of her head as she listened to the sick-filled argument between Price and Soap, both of whom were stuck in bed. She was seconds away from walking out to let the men fend for themselves. Gaz was sitting at the table, drinking a smoothie that she had made, and hoping to keep down. He raised a brow to look at Laswell.

"Did you miss it?" Gaz couldn't help but ask, his tone carrying a hint of tiredness.

Laswell shot him a glare, head shaking. "You think I missed grown men arguing like children?"