“Some of us can actually die, you know,” said the blonde bint.

Long after she an’ the V-man had departed for the main plot of their own story, the words rankled in Screed’s soul.  ’E might not be a beau’y, but ’andsome is as ’andsome does; and wha’ arter all, was so wrong with wha’ ’e did?

Be overrun wi’ rats they would if it weren’t for the loikes of ’im.  See how they’d loike tha’ then!

For a moment, ’e were tempted to find ’er out, teach ’er a lesson, show ’er wha’ real value were in a man.  Rats in her kitchen, thass wha’ she deserved!

Then ’e thought better of it.  ’Is ol’ mum might be dead for centuries; but she’d look down from heaven and shake ’er finger at ’im, so she would.  She’d tried to raise ’im roight wha’ever he made of ’imself in the intervenin’.

’E moightn’t look the part; but ol’ Screed could play the gennelmun better’n Blondie’d ever make a lady.