Momo sat folded forward on the toilet, her elbows propped on her knees and her face buried in her hands. Her blonde hair hung in limp curtains around her cheeks, and every few seconds, a low, pitiful sound escaped her throat.
Something between a moan and a whimper, you know, the noise of a person who had made poor dietary choices and was now paying the price.
"Hngggggggggggggggg," she groaned as she fully experienced this special bodily suffering. "Mortal body suuuuuuuuuckssssssss..."
Bunny stood in the bathroom doorway, one massive shoulder propped against the frame, a blister pack of lactase enzyme tablets in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
His expression was not sympathetic. He had done this many, many times before and had long since exhausted his reserves of pity.
"Still gonna argue you just have IBS and not lactose intolerance?" He popped two tablets out of the foil and crouched down beside her, pressing them into her palm.
