Welcome to Purgatory

[Archie woke up yesterday.  How is this new?  Well, after getting some fairly critical stab wounds from Grell, he was put on a ventilator and kept under sedation for a few days.  The ventilator was exchanged for a less impressive-looking concentrator yesterday and he was taken off sedation.  He spent yesterday sleeping anyway, since anesthesia doesn't generally leave you bright-eyed immediately afterward.

This morning, he is talking and eating Jell-o, which is a new experience. The most important bit comes written on the journal network in wobbly handwriting courtesy of the heart monitor clipped on his finger.]

I have been informed that I may have visitors. I'd like to know everyone is all right.

Kennedy

[Anyone who comes in will find him looking predictably weak and pale but lucid and in good spirits, or possibly catnapping after a dose of painkillers.

OOC: Purely for the sake of mercy, Archie is unaffected by the event.]

They have everything Shakespeare ever wrote in the library.  Everything!  It's a fountain of gold.  I could spend days here.  I'd sleep here if they'd let me.  I don't think I've ever been happier.  And there's no theatre group here?  None?  Do people here not realize what they have?  What kind of a world is this?

In case anyone asks, I'll be in the library for the rest of my life.

[Or really just the rest of the day.   At some point he'll have to come up for air and grab something to eat at the 7th Heaven, where he'll be buried in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.  It'll be dark before he goes home, carrying only a single book.]