Don't worry, I could use a rest myself. It must be the next punishment coming on... can't be worse than leprosy, can it?

*Wesley vomits again, and is involuntarily somewhat alarmed to see the smallest wisps of crimson in the bile. He knows he's already dead, but it's still disconcerting.*

Take your time. I don't think we'll get very far through this wind feeling like this. Why don't you tell me about yourself?