At least Mark conceded. As much as Roger loved his best friend, he really didn't want to get into deep discussions about the fact he could be saved and that he would be perfectly fine. That he just had to find a way to get the cure. Because seriously? It didn't work that way. Even if he got cured here, what was to say if he got sent back home he'd be cured? He would still have a death sentence.
"So long as I stay here, I guess." Shrugging, Roger moved over and got his tea, sipping it. Of course he was then being admonished for not thinking to ask questions that would just give him a headache and Roger rolled his eyes.
"Well, a hole would be pretty uncomfortable, but I suppose if I have my guitar it would be all right..." Looking as if he were actually considering going to find a hole for him and his guitar, Roger shook his head some, "It seemed like it would give me a headache to try and get answers about what happens back home, so I didn't bother. But I'm sure someone here knows. Maybe Freddie. He had been here before I got here, was gone when I got here and then showed up again."