D. was immediately amused by the dumb question, snickering in his hazy stupor. “Throwing up, obviously,” he snorted.  He felt his roommate help him to the bathroom. When he felt cool tiled wall, he immediately slid to the floor, thanking whatever god was out there for developing tiled floor (obviously to help with fevers and drunkards).<br/><br/>As his roommate shuffled around, D. shifted to the toilet where he proceeded to throw up more red liquids and chunks of fruits and fried foods he had shoved down his throw in between shoving down shots.<br/><br/>“I don’t want any more damn alcohol,” he snarled, throwing the bottle across the room where it hit the wall and splattered. “Oh.  Wait. You said water?”  He laughed. “Fuuuck I’m plastered.  Can I — can I have another bottle —?”  The abrupt feel of upchucking has him turn and drop his face into the toilet bowl.