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[devoutish]

Yeah?

[That's it, that's all you get.]

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[devoutish]

It's not for me.

[headjacked]

So try not to lose your limbs. N-not that I'd be able to make you a quality replacement here. Though -- never say never.

I'd try, is what I'm saying. I'd try for you.

[devoutish]

[Oh, Rhys.]

Honestly, mate, I'd rather have wood.

[headjacked]

[ ok no PHRASING... he has to nastysnortlaugh at that ]

Then it'd be the nicest crappy wood-limb I could make.

[devoutish]

You're a good lad, Rhys. If you were from London--

[-- and less messed up--]

-- I'd give you a job.

[headjacked]

[ Oh, that's. Oh. There may be an instantly, angrily disapproving blue specter of a man in the background, but that doesn't matter. Rhys kneads his face, pushing back tears of a slightly different sort. ]

If this was London, I'd say yes.

[devoutish]

[That's right, Rhys. Forget Jack and move on to the gangster. Just as planned.]

You'd quickly get bored of the lack of robot arms, I think.

[headjacked]

Oh, I'm sure I'd find something to occupy my time.

[ His eyes are still red and puffy and he's miles away from anything resembling happy, but... no more panic.

"Yeah, like dying of dysentery." ]

[devoutish]

What would you do in London?

[headjacked]

[ Rhys mumbles 'not die of dysentery' under his breath. ]

Anything I could to help out your operation. Help you expand.

[devoutish]

[Dysentery. That's adorable, Rhys.]

Help us win back territory from the Italians?

[headjacked]

I don't know what an Italian is but abso-flippen-lutely! Especially since it sounds like they stole it in the first place.

[devoutish]

They're a thorn in my side, is what they are; yeah. We've been at war with each other for an age.

[headjacked]

What started the war?

[devoutish]

Oh, who the fuck remembers. It's over territory.

[headjacked]

Oh, so one of those long-standing grudge matches. Whatever, I'm sure you're in the right. You. You're a sensible dude. Always have been.

[devoutish]

You do this very easily. You know that, yeah?

[headjacked]

I'd, uh. Like to think I see the best in people. After Jack, I mean. Lesson learned?

[devoutish]

I wouldn't say it has been, no.

[headjacked]

Wh- --why? You're nothing like him.

[devoutish]

"I'm sure you're in the right, you always are" never fucking ends well.

[headjacked]

I didn't mean you're always right about absolutely everything ever, given... you're a human, I just. I meant in this particular -- because of the sensible-ness --

[ Stumbling over just about everything, now. ]

[devoutish]

Mm.

I expect obedience from my people, but I also expect them to have their own minds. Make sure you have yours, Rhys.

[He means that in more way than one.]

[headjacked]

...yeah, Alfie.

[ "No, Alfie." And when Rhys fails to respond, he's angry. Angry enough for Rhys to feel a white-hot punch to the temple.

"We need to talk about Alfie, buddy boy." The hot and the cold together, it's unbearable. Rhys abruptly leaves the conversation. ]

[devoutish]

Rhys.

[When he doesn't get a response, he calls back immediately.]

Rhys.