Trainwhistle Jenkins, cries over spilt Charisma points

Trainwhistle sits staring blankly ahead. Something just went slightly awry, and he hasn't quite got it yet, like mutant faeries, fluttering just on the edges of consciousness. He stands up. When it fully hits him what he will NOT be doing that night, a tirade of curses, fit to tie a sailor's mom who curses a lot, pours from his mouth like so much mutation vomit, which follows the curses almost immediately. He dances back on tiptoes to save his shoes and spews on one of Edna's legs copiously, to say the least.

"Right, best git me to the doctor then." Trainwhistle Jenkins rubs a leathered sleeve across his mouth as he tromps out the door, clanging the door with Ol' Bashy.