When I finally got up to face the day at about 1030, I decided to take Argent’s advice to heart and keep my head way down low. Like, as low as it’s possible to get, leaving the room only to visit the drekker. Apparently Argent had clued Jean Trudel in, so I found meals—greasy bar food, no surprise there—delivered to me upstairs. Breakfast—and lunch and dinner—in bed, if I wanted it. All three meals Bavarian-style soy-smokies sitting in buns the texture of styrofoam packing material. Yum.