The nurse tottered in, carrying the pen and paper that Kakyoin had asked for. He was supposed to be resting his eyes at all times, but she liked him, and she didn't think it would hurt to just let him write a letter to that silly French friend of his. As long as she sat there with him, making sure he didn't strain too much and keeping a look-out for other, less lenient staff members. She herself had pulled out her knitting.
"Nurse?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"Do you have a different pen? This one's running out."
She smiled and passed him another from her bag. He kept writing; she kept knit-one-perl-two-ing.
"Nurse?" he said again, after a minute.
"Yes, Kakyoin?"
"How much postage will this be?"
"Oh, I believe the Speedwagon Foundation ought to take care of it." He nodded and went back to his letter.
She was almost done with the next row in her scarf when she interrupted again.
"Nurse?"
"What is it now?"
"What's the French for 'blowjob'?"