"NOT MY FAULT!"
The howl tore from Hiro's throat and bounced across the vaulted stone of the Sacrosanctum's main hall, so loud and petulant it drowned the murmured prayers of priests in the galleries above. His voice was shrill with desperation, and his arms flailed wide as though sheer volume and movement could shield him from the judgement of the assembled order. His face was red, greasy sweat beading along his temple and rolling down the folds of his neck.
"You all know" his chest heaved, his breath ragged, "that I couldn't do anything there! Even Titania was struggling! How do you think I would have managed?"
The silence that followed was heavy. The air smelled faintly of incense, bitter from being burned too long. The Pope sat rigid at the high dais, his eyes narrowing, while the gathered cardinals and bishops shifted in their seats. Their dissatisfaction was palpable, like a wave pressing down on the fat youth.
