"No, you're not," said Daria, as if she could control this sort of thing. "You're alright, babe, you're okay. We're all okay." She wrapped her child-free arm around his back, stroking it gently and firmly. "Besides," she added, in a slightly less-okay voice, anxiety around the edges. "My stomach feels icky, and if you throw up, I might too, so you're not allowed."