WARNING: vomiting mention
Pellaeon stood in the doorway of the fresher looking guilty as Thrawn sat in front of the toilet and retched up the contents of his stomach. "I'm sorry."
The alien gave him a halfhearted wave of his hand as he panted. "It's not like you knew."
"I wish I had," Pellaeon mumbled with a wince as another wave hit Thrawn. Louder, so Thrawn could hear him, he continued: "I didn't even know that some species could have food aversions."
Especially to vanilla extract, of all things.
Thrawn leaned back a bit and caught his breath. He didn't bother to wipe his mouth and Pellaeon wondered how much longer this would go on for. "It's not particularly well known, no."
That was all he had time to say before he had to turn back to the bowl. Pellaeon tried not to shudder at the sounds of him getting sick, but it was difficult when the noises made his own stomach churn in sympathy.
"I'll be sure to let everyone who handles the food know so this doesn't happen again. No more cake you can't eat allowed. We'll have to apologize to half the crew for it though."
Pellaeon felt like Thrawn might have at least chuckled at that, had he not been, well, preoccupied.
Finally he sat back on his heels and made a pained face. "All right," he said as he pressed his forehead against his hand. "I think I'm done."
Pellaeon nodded. "I'm going to get you a towel and something to get that taste out of your mouth."
Thrawn gave him a thumbs up in response.