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Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeurgh… bleagh… bwuagh. Grossness? Ho yeah. Like the lightswitch is up, the grossness is on, baby, on.

[His eyes blink open, and for a moment, he exists completely on both levels, aware of both the actual physical vomit he's got his nose mashed in and the slightly less physical and more digital vomit everybody sees that he's got his nose mashed in.]

Hey, my barf is orange. Sweet. Never horfed up orange before.

[All transmissions stop save for a few groaning noises as he pushes himself to his knees.]

…Anybody around here own a red leather wallet? Rifle shells, about a gil and a half in coins, a condom, and a weird lookin' keychainy thing shaped like a bat or a potato, not sure which, sound familiar to anybody?

Hey, who stole my lockpicks? Where am I? Is this Template city?

______
[OOC; and I'm out for a little while. Should be back by 5:00 or 5:30, EST.]