You attempt to pick yourself up, only to find that your limbs are completely unresponsive. Thankfully you had lacked the strength to even make a token effort, and so your weakness is likely to be perceived as just you languishing like some kind of plant.
Excellent.
"Do you need some assistance getting up, Master?" Rider inquires by your side, looking down upon you while smirking.
"I'm fine down here," You groan with all the dignity you can muster, "But I could still use a meal." Your Servant looks down at you, frowning, "Perhaps you could grab Moira and see about having her grab me something to eat from a restaurant."
"I'll be sure to tell her that you got her name right for once," Rider replies with a knowing smirk, "Anything in particular?"
"Yes actually. Do you remember that chinese restaurant from around where we got my clothes?"
"…Not particularly, no."
"Perfect, then neither will Ms. Dubstep." Your mind flashes back towards how you were forced to waste precious od and blood dragging her and her Servant out of the crossfire and you smile, "Tell her that I want some Chang Chong Wing Wong noodles, everyone has them and theirs looked particularly sumptuous."
"…Did they really have such a thing?"
"Maybe? I can't read heiroglyphics or whatever they call that script of theirs." It sounds right at least.
"Well, if you're sure. I'll tell her that you'll be waiting at the tent when she returns." He pauses thoughtfully.
"Jackson did say that the other Master was a woman…"
"Wait, tent? What tent?" You ask, but you are too late.
Your Servant is already gone.
Groaning is the only sound that fills the chapel for the longest time, with no one else entering in order to assist you. Wherever Sisigou is, his hunt for Gentles is seemingly keeping him quite busy. The other Masters are presumably preparing for either striking to assist Sisigou and Saber or Berserker while you lay exposed, mostly helpless, on the floor. Where has Rider gone? Perhaps it would have been better to send Madonna somewhere closer so that you would not be left abandoned for so long?
You shake your head, ridding yourself of such unfounded self-doubt. Rider will surely return. In fact, you could summon to your side right now!
Rider, I am in need of your assistance.
There is no reply, but there is a by now familiar sense of…smug self-satisfaction? Sighing internally, it's long past the time when the sun would set and the group would head out with Rider to retrieve Spartacus. You find yourself wondering where everyone has gone. Desperately wishing for companionship, you can't help but ruminate that left alone you will eventually stop thinking.
You hear more than see the front doors to the chapel open wide, the darkness of twilight doing nothing to illuminate the two figures now approaching you. One, hunched over and diminutive. The second, somewhat stocky. The sound of creaking wheels is joined by the gentle thumping of wood tapping against wood, and you find yourself drawn in to this newest mystery. So much so that in your attempt to discern the interlopers identities via squinting that you fail to notice that they are upon you until you realize you have made a grave error, as the end of a cane has buried itself deep into your thigh while your arm has been run over by a wheel.
"Oh?" A deep, throaty voice creaks out, "It appears we have a welcoming committee after all."
"Of course we do, grandfather." The second voice is subservient, hesitant, almost fearful to your ears. "Uhhh, I guess this just means Mr. President got the party started ahead of us if there are already drunk people passed out on the ground."
"Too true. Those Americans are an undisciplined bunch, but I see that at least the Adjudicator saw fit to have his debauchery take place elsewhere." The tip of the cane digs deeply into your thigh, eliciting a gasp of pain.
"Hello." The bald head of the cane user turns towards you. In the scant moonlight you can see his jet black eyes glittering with malicious amusement, "Could you be so kind as to show us to Father Andrew Jackson?"
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
You have enough strength in your limbs to get up, so what do you do?
[] Flee
[] Assist this harmless seeming old gentleman to the best of your abilities
[] Decline
—[] Citing a fatal incompatibility with your sense of ascetics
—[] Citing your waiting on your delivery of chinese food
—[] Citing your (supposed) inability to get up
—[] Citing your, uh…
——[] By the Power of my Command Seal!
