Chapter Text
Lockwood had never seen George speechless before but the only reply he managed was a surprised
“Oh.”
Holly nodded slowly before smiling at Lockwood.
“That- makes sense. Congratulations!”
Lockwood’s grin widened. “Thanks, Hol.”
“George, you deserve whatever plot Lucy is cooking up right now.”
Holly’s comment seemed to wake George up. After a moment of processing, he recovered.
“Well, that explains a lot. The increased appetite, the worsened mood swings-“
“The vomit that I found in Mrs. Harrison’s flowerpot the other night.”
Everyone turned to Kipps, who had been silent until he interrupted George. Matching puzzled expressions crossed their faces. Lockwood with his eyebrows raised, Holly with her head tilted to one side, and George squinting through his slightly stylish glasses. Then as one, they shrugged in their own ways. He was probably right. If Lucy had tossed her lunch mid-case, she probably wouldn’t have told them.
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I’ll reluctantly tell you, that regrettably, Kipps was correct. When the miasma started wreaking havoc on my senses, I had yacked my insides out into the first container I could find.
Needless to say, everyone walked on egg shells around me after that night. They acted like I was especially fragile or something. I so wasn’t. George in particular seemed extra keen to prevent own his untimely death. He bit his tongue quite often in those days, preventing himself from saying something he might regret. It was a foreign sight that drove me crazy. For months Skull was the only person I could rely on for an honest opinion about anything. That is really saying something.