Everyone agreed that they should; and then they robbed the bank; and then everyone went home and agreeably pounded the mattress. Everyone agreed until exhausted.
Manuel's about to die in about a week or two, but everyone is pretty chill. The deceises are gnawing away at his eyelids and taint meat, but he's awake. So he'll be fine. Just fine.
So what does this space virus look like anyway?
Next Week: Manuel gets quarantined, and Rex refuses to have sex with him. Tragedy ensues.