[laughter]

Ume: Dude, you’re only three years older than us. That hardly makes you our “elder”.

Clover: Plus it’s hard to respect someone who can’t even hear the word “inchworm” without feeling sick.

Prussian: [shivers] Ugh… they’re so slimy… and cold… and wiggly… and… I think I’m going to be sick.

Clover: How did you survive Soliel being born?

Apricot: He threw up in the trash can and passed out. Hit his head on a chair, too, needed six stitches.