Rogue wasn't all that steady on her feet, but she managed to stumble out the door and down the hall, just making it to the bathroom with a second to spare to close the door behind her before being violently ill in the toilet. It was with the ease of practice that she held her own hair back, and when she was finished and the contents of her stomach flushed away, she rinsed out her mouth and brushed her teeth with the green toothbrush she'd left in his apartment weeks ago. She even used a little mouthwash, though the artificial chill of mint in her mouth did little to help her feel better.

She felt terrible. Like the walls were pressing in around her and she couldn't breathe, like she was about to fall over because the world was spinning so much. She wanted to cry because of how bad she felt, but that would only make things worse. Rubbing at her eyes, she opened the bathroom door and sagged against the frame.