"Hello, George," Ian greeted through the phone and I sloppily got up from bed.
I asked wearily, "what happened Ian?"
"Clark and I were going to-wait, are you alright?" He said, his voice laced with concern and worry.
"No, I'm sick."
"Why? I mean what happened?"
"It's not that severe-"
"Do you want me to bring you something? Or take you to the doctor?" He bombarded me with a series of questions and I exhaled loudly.
I said a bit forcefully, "no, it's nothing really."
"It must be something George. Is it cold or fever?"
"Neither."
"Then what is wrong?" He asked again and I hesitated. "What is it George? You're such a tough cookie, you-"
"Nothing! I just... ate a lot yesterday and my bladder got all weird," I admitted in a low voice, trying my best to not get embarrassed.
"Oh," Ian said and there was a long pause.
"Yeah, so I need to go to the bathroom again, you know," I said awkwardly and sprinted to the bathroom.