atowncalledtreffy

[After receiving no reply and going to check-]

The Pope is in a coma.

Shit.

Thanks for letting me know. Should we bring him to the infirmary?

Is that the usual procedure? I've heard these comas spoken about, but I'd never seen one for myself until now.

Well, it's either that or leave his body in state where it is. And if you could get in, that means anyone could, and it'd look suspicious if we have a guard there.

It's something, isn't it? Living death.

... It's like he's been frozen. [Or a video that's paused. He's a little fascinated.]

How is the security in the infirmary? We could also bring him to one of our cabins, but I don't want to be accused of kidnapping the Pope.

[He knows people like to make mountains out of molehills.]

Frozen is a good word for it. Won't rot, won't piss himself, doesn't need food that I can tell, won't get sores from laying too long.

It's the best there is. I mean that, there's no one working there I wouldn't trust.

[That's what he was wondering, though he assumed not since people don't need weeks to rebuild their atrophied muscles afterward.]

Let's take him there then. I assume they have some sort of stretcher we can put him on?

[It seems the most dignified way to transport His Holiness.]

They do. I can call for one, or go get one ourselves. Whichever you want to do.

[on that he agrees; holy or not, he doesn't like the idea of anyone here having to suffer on the back of Trevor like a bag of dead leaves]

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