Ixidor almost vomits reflexively, as soon as the sickening feeling turns his stomach over. He still might. Oddly enough, it's sort of like a hangover. That is, he has the sudden inexplicable urge to drown it in liquor.
Something clean this time... expensive and smooth... none of that gut-rot you pick up and any old gas station. The Thearch is smart enough to realize the source of this wave of madness and nausea isn't his reckless lifestyle, but it doesn't change the fact that he is reaching for the flask in his pocket.
Stopping himself suddenly, Ix looks down to his hand, and watches it tremble. Staring as though transfixed for a moment, a bead of sweat drips from his nose, crashing to his palm just as Animus gives the firm direction.
Ix snaps his wide-eyed gaze up to the others, clenching his hand into a fist in an attempt to stop the shaking.
"You don't have to tell me twice."
Except, his feat aren't steady. As soon as he begins to move, the world twists painfully. Though managing not to collapse, it takes some effort to make it to the elevator. Effort, or perhaps assistance.
Sinking into the corner of the steel box, Ixidor focuses on Cook's words, needing something to concentrate on. "The Ley Line that was supposed to be fixed. Don't suppose anyone knows how it came to be damaged in the first place? Rosh didn't give us all of the details."
Though he is distantly aware of Gallows' discovery, he is busy silently vowing to give it his best not to hurl on anyone's shoes. But it's not one he's comfortable making verbally. Only a fool makes promises he knows he might not be able to keep.
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