Yeah...Yeah, we are. And I don't even know who to aim at, bossman. It's not even that bad, far as accommodation goes and all, but...It's not getting our work done.

[Fuck it, he needs popcorn. Time to place all his purloined goods on the counter and tear a bag open with his teeth, before holding it out to Vergilius. Untainted, first handful.]

That's what's really getting me now. There's no threat, bar the fact that we're here against our wills. What are we meant to fight? How do we even fix this? I think I'm already getting soft, being here.