Even the illusion of privacy will be appreciated in retrospect. Having seen Mercy keeping watch, she already knows he's either in the house already or on his way back, but she'll take her time anyway. It's not like there's much choice in that, anyway, until she hits a dry heave rather than anything else left in her stomach.

It's a small kindness that it's still too dark to really make out what all of that was. She knows. She'd still rather not see.

She'd really rather not have to contest with a nosy dragonet suddenly appearing at her side and making curious noises at it, too, but that's also not a choice.

"...Red, no," she murmurs, pushing the chirping little beast away. Another cough but clearly nothing else coming up means she can probably move again and she'll do what she can to throw dirt over the mess before scooping Red up and slowly, carefully getting to her feet. It's an unsteady walk back to the back steps, which is as far as she feels like making it.

She's going to take a seat there instead of going inside just yet, focus torn between slow breaths, trying to keep herself calm, and keeping Red from clambering all over her. It takes about three attempts to remind him he knows what 'stay' is, then she can peel her gloves off and idly pet the whining dragonet, fingers brushing lightly along the feathered spines along his head and back.