[ If it weren't for that tone and that underlying warmth, Gildor might've been put off by the harsh words. What a gift the symbiote can be when reading the subtler nuances in people. Like he said, the truth just slips right out.

He slips off the last outer layer, pulls off his gloves, and eases down onto a cot. Whether or not it's actually his he'll find out later, or perhaps not if he's sound asleep enough. ]

Yes, well, it's always good to... to be prepared. Why I carry at least three extra strings everywhere I go. Where is my... my case any-

[ He starts to idly question, the faint idea of getting some practice in just barely coming to mind when suddenly - his stomach lurches. Something about laying down again isn't agreeing with him, and his nerves are shot cold. Embarrassed but careful, Gildor slowly shifts to his knees. Slower still, he crawls off the cot and over towards a curtain, where he can feel the shape of a chamber pot.

He just barely reaches it before retching into it. ]