[No. There is no coming home from this. There's only the sea of PA and the victims sloshing in the slurry.]

Don't throw down the gauntlet I've already got in my hand, Lalonde. I'm not letting go of this bitch even when I'm stiff and being loaded into the incinerator.

[Rose sounds horrible. Like the smoking next door neighbor with his morning voice bad. He flashsteps closer, not unlike a cat seeking to reassure without truly admitting to it.]

I can keep up with some boozing lady with a lot of long words. Not like Bro doesn't toss out a thesis in one swing.

Chill, ok?