[ He rests his elbows on the surface of the table and makes a ehhh noise as he doesn't know how else to respond to Vander saying Vincent doesn't control the man's emotions. Gently pushing his glasses up, he exhales a long sigh: ] All right, let's talk religion.

[ But he drops his arms soon after so he can start scooping out more of the dip and chips. Each time he eats, he wiggles his fingers. ] Isn't it cozy? Truly one of life's few pleasures that we have in life. Doing crime in a place without a society.

[ He chuckles to himself. ] Oh, you know -- whining, sniveling, bending oneself over backwards while apologizing on one's knees. [ He flicks his fingers over the dip. ] I value myself much more than whatever pride or ego I might have. If it takes debasing myself to survive, I don't see any reason why I need to hold my head up high.

[ A flicking finger toward Vander. ] You should write that down. [ And he smiles before continuing: ] I learned something I suppose. But it's mostly that it was just... unproductive to my plans to keep being upset about dying. We're alive now... what are people going to do? Hold us a funeral so we can feel better?

[ He holds his hands out to him. ] There are things to do. [ He claps his hands together, sharp, violent. ] Nothing else to do but move on.