The mud man was still freaking Ivan out even though he hadn't done anything since the first threat. The confusion and fear coursing thorugh him was enough to make bile crawl up his throat again. He clamped a hand over his mouth and gagged heavily. He had nothing left in his stomach, so he brought up nothing, only retching and getting blood tinted spit all over his hand. He shakily started scratching the dried vomit and blood off his face, his cheeks blushing deep red. 
He was slowly regaining his strength, now able to sit up without the support of the pillows. He was crossing and uncrossing his legs, shifting around nervously under the blanket. He still felt disgusting, but was glad to have been carried away from his puddle of vomit at the very least. He looked up at Raven, who was still right next to him, but said nothing.