Payments have been dispatched, darlings—consider it my heartfelt “thank you” for a job well done. And yes, Mr. Rex, some of us Zoners actually do possess a spine; toss in the militants and you’ve got the full steel-backbone package, hm?
Now, T-Kontrol, cupcake, you silly goose: you told me to meet you at “the” bar yet somehow forgot the teensy detail of which bar. My schedule isn’t a scavenger hunt. And start counting your own credits, sweetheart—I only drink the finest imported whisky, and it does not pour itself.