The Flesh Valeyard ducks his head out of the Library room, aiming himself for the safety of the stairwell that leads to the new swimming pool, one hand clutching his belly as though he expects something to spill out. Again. How many times has he lost his breakfast now?
“I have to get there, get the Ring!” he murmurs, banging his fist on the wall.
The floor... is swinging from side to side in his vision; he wasn’t lying about the headache.
Well, he thought he was. But obviously not.
“Old Girl,” he breathes, falling against the pale sand colored wall, “Stop tossing about! I didn’t intend to spend forever traipsing one picosecond at a time down this damn hallway. Did you move the engine room again? You had better not! I’ll fry your secondary navigational leads and leave you in Jersey for a month!”
The hallway totters sharply to the right; a door to a room is on the opposite wall, and he is certain the ship intends to toss him into...
His feet fly out from under him, jumping his nerves into several greasy buckets hanging from a ceiling fan, somewhere.
The hallway cuts a hard far right this time, and he sails through the open door as it slides open to digest him into the room- he curl himself into a ball, awkwardly hugging his knees around his small but annoying belly against the inevitable impact.
As he free falls, something blue and sticky peels off his trousers and situates itself mockingly in front of him.
“Bite Me... charming...” he murmurs to himself, patting his stomach as his eyes fly further to the floor.
Then the ship rights itself in a quick reverse rotation, leaving him sailing now toward the door he just fell into.