Carl woke up with a cold sweat. He was feeling nauseous, and tried his hardest to not throw up.

Emphasis on 'tried'.

He just barely made it into the bathroom where he barfed on the toilet, coughing and crying as he did. He felt trapped, like he was in that trailer; even the clarity of the waking world didn't dim his sense of unease and paranoia.

What did dim it slightly, however, was the lizard staning at the door of the bathroom.

"Feelin's better?" he said.

"N-no."

"Figured as much."

Flynn sat down next to Carl, and the ram felt embarassed. About his cold sweat, about looking so dirty when Flynn was surprisingly emaculate, aside from a scale patch that was falling off.

"Y'know I'm here for you, right?"

"Y-yeah, thanks."

Carl Hugged Flynn, who at first resisted, but quickly leaned into the soft touch. He huged Carl, who was lulled back to sleep.

Now came the gargantuan task of carrying his fatass over back to bed, but it was a toil Flynn took in stride. As he laid him down he could still see his eyelids motioning aggressively, small spasms as if to say the nightmare wasn't over.

It likely wouldn't be, but Flynn was there all the same.