"What are we?"

Aftermath

((TW:// Vomiting))

Vincent leaned back on the ball of his foot, trying to steady his breathing. The deeper the breath, it seemed, the worse the feeling got. Lights from the stage flashed brightly in his face, which was damn near disorienting. The music and children screaming caused vibrations in the air, which would normally go unnoticed. When he was in this state, though, he felt like he was going to vomit. 

No; hold that thought. Correction. He was going to vomit.

This had become something of a normal occurrence for him, post spring-lock accident. Holding down food wasn't as easy as it had been before. Which, he assumed made some sense. Having your organs ripped out then sewn back together had to come with it's price; his was just unlucky. It had a pattern though, thank god. He didn't think he could handle having this problem randomly. 
It only ever happened when he ate too much, or drank alcohol. 

Vincent mentally scolded himself for the night before. He should've known better. He was too caught up with... other things to realize he had reached his limit. And while he never got drunk, per se, god knows it was enough to upset his body. 

Vince looked around the pizzeria, hoping to find somebody to man his station. Being put at the doors, it wasn't so easy to just walk away. Mike was his first guess, but he didn't seem to be at his station. He glanced over at Chris, and tried to wave him down, but the janitor was far too caught up in his own music to even glance at Vincent. Vin internally groaned to himself, but before he had any time to complain, a family walked through the door. A family of five, mom, dad, and three kids.

He couldn't care less.

Vincent put on a grin, gesturing for them to approach his little stand. "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," he began, going into his usual spiel about the happiest place on earth. He looked down at his stand, vision blurry. He took a moment to collect himself, swallowing nothing, then looking back up to the family. Quietly, with a stamp in his hand, he marked each individual's hand of the party, a sort of marker so that no kid left with a stranger. He felt sweat bead on his forehead.
"You're all set. Head on in," He mumbled, opening the rope stopping children from entering so that they could go through. In doing so, one of the children barreled past and knocked Vincent to the side. Their parents looked at him apologetically, and their mom mentioned something about boys will be boys. 

Vincent nodded with a strained smile, closing the gate.

He needed to get out of here, now.

Vincent didn't bother trying to flag someone down to cover for him at this point, it would be better to get out of here and cause less of a mess than to stick around and ruin the carpet. 

He rushed towards the hallway, not caring which one he entered. Everything was hitting him at once. His vision was blurry and he felt on the damn near verge of collapsing. He didn't even see Scott rushing towards him, instead roughly bumping shoulders with the taller man. He didn't have time to mutter apologies, though, instead beelining for the bathroom. Vincent looked around once inside, relieved to see nobody inside. He kicked the stopper that was holding the door open, letting it slam behind him. The doors had no locks, unfortunately for him, to follow the fire hazard codes and such. Closing it would suffice for now. 

Vincent forced himself into a stall, the biggest one, and didn't bother to lock it behind him. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, and heaved.

-------

Scott stormed out of the break room, shaking his head. So many emotions swirled through his mind. Was it wrong of him to blow up like that? It didn't feel wrong in the moment, but looking back on it... He sighed. Maybe he was getting too into his own head about it. Maybe it-