Clever. Phoenix can definitely see the gang roots here. He allows Arthur to help him into the car, hissing as he’s finally able to sit down. His legs are on fire. It feels like he’s been running a marathon.

Phoenix follows instructions to the letter, putting his head down and hugging the bucket like it’s a lifeline. He channels the nerves of the situation into holding the bucket for dear life and starting to moan softly with his forehead resting on the rim as they approach the gate guard. He doesn’t try to imitate retching—he’s not sure he could even if he wanted to, since that’s not something fish can do and it’s not something merpeople can do in human form—but he can do a damn good impression of a nauseous human.

And that’s all he has to do. An impression. Don’t look up and let Arthur do the talking, and it’ll be okay.