"I'm having a hard time finding anything good about this place," Guybrush admitted, setting his elbow to his knee and leaning on his hand. He sat up again almost immediately, feeling the stitches in his back pull against his skin painfully. Just as he was almost recovered from his previous injuries, he gained a whole set of new ones. These came with scars far worse than any of the others.

So instead of leaning on his hand, he used it to count up just how awful the institute was. "The nurses are no good for conversations, the layout is obnoxious, the items I've found aren't just seemingly useless- I'm pretty sure they're actually useless! People keep disappearing or dying, whichever comes first. Oh, and they don't believe porcelain is a legitimate phobia."

He paused. "At least the good food is back?"