""Ok, fine, I get it! There is something such as too much cheese! Dear god don't make me waste any more, I'm done eating.
AAAAAAAH
Also talk I guess.
Some time later, you wake up. You have memories of being chased down mighty parmesan bridges over molten, magmal feta lakes by huges, hulking golems made of cheese, brie wolves howling at a cheddar moon, mountainous crests of Camembert bearing down on you, endless hordes of red Leicester ants marching in columns into your mouth....
You are in a nondescript toilet cubicle. A panel slides back and a small microphone and camera extend from the wall, scanning you momentarily before needles operated by robotic hands administer several different blood tests, you're retinally scanned, the insides of your cheeks are swabbed mechanically by cotton buds, skin, hair and mucus samples are collected, and several bright flashes, low booms and highly pitched whirrs indicate ultrasound and electromagnetic wave scans taking place. After three seconds, the collection of machinery halts, clicks rapidly and folds itself back into the wall, the panel sliding back up to disguise any presence of the array of scanners and other, less easily distinguishably devices.
At your foot is an action figure of Desmond Running. Awww, look, the liddle legs are detacheable, too!
Temporarily give up on Emilio. Hobble my way over to the concession stand and request medical help.
You get handed a roll of tissue paper. It won't make an amazing bandage, but will probably be the best thing you can get hold of right now, given the circumstances.
PM.
Janeway's shackle clicks emptily, while Xan advances, clearly intent on pinning her against the arena wall, limbs undulating in a tide of dead flesh.
Try simpler combinations.