Fire vomit. This was a new one. Usually his opponents had enough sense left so they could tell when they were about to throw up as well. Char, sadly, not so much.

A burst of flame lit up the air between them, singing Vinnie before he had the time to dart backwards. But that hiccup of a flamethrower was all Char had managed before what came out of his mouth just disintegrated into a chunky stream of flaming vomit. It was like some putrid flambé of what looked like half-digested animal, enveloped in glowing embers.

He wasn't as skilled in projectile vomit, but that didn't mean Vinnie was scott free. His skin felt seared and his toes caught splatters of fiery puke and his hoodie was catching on fire actually oh fucking shit--

Welp. Off his back and onto a pile of slush it goes. Idly, Vinnie stomped the fire out as he waited for Char to get up again. If in fact Char ever was going to stop throwing up and get up again. "Looks like I found a way t'shut your fat fuckin' mouth after all."