Peter just groans again, being moved seems to have really upset his stomach again and he's really hoping this goes away fast. Amazing how he can go from feeling about ninety-three percent to negative three in a matter of minutes.

He scoots over when instructed but the jostling doesn't do any good for his already angry stomach. He takes in breaths through his nose and tries to focus on the cool cloth dabbing his forehead and not his stomach. It doesn't work and in two seconds he's sitting up so fast and grabbing the bag he'd been given and coughing up more bile.

Stupid Flowers.

"Sorry, Mr Stark." He manages, with a few breaths. "I know this probably isn't how-" He coughs more bile into the bag. "-you wanted to spend your morning."