Something was wrong. Ever since this morning, Marco said he wasn’t feeling well. That his stomach was bothering him. The only thing that you and him could come up with that was bothering him was being a little too rough last night, if you know what I mean. He insisted he was fine and soldiered on through the day, but it got worse as the day went on. At the end of the day, you walked into your shared bedroom, only to see Marco in his phoenix from in the bed in a makeshift nest, noticeable still in pain.