Paco looks small in a bed surrounded by high-tech monitors and other drek. He’s got wires and sensors and other crap attached to his head and his wrists and also disappearing under the covers to reach his chest. He looks like a little fragging kid. The smudges under his eyes are darker and more pronounced, and his lips still look like hell, but at least there’s not any of that yellow drek pouring from his nose, and his breathing sounds almost clear. His eyes themselves and his cheeks are sunken, though, and it looks like he’s gotten thinner in the three hours since I dragged him in here. I feel cold.