-What time is it, man?

-Time for you to shut the fuck up.

-Wha… Fuck you, man!

-Watch your fuckin' language. There's a child here.

-Are you kiddi...

-Hand me the silencer.

-Oh... wha… is… have you heard something? Is he coming?

-Shh. Hand me the bottle.

-The wha'?

-Bottle. Hand me the bottle. It's in the bag.

-A fuckin' bo… Where are her fuckin' parents, man? What the fuck? This is so unproffe…

-Shh.

-Wha'… is…

-My phone. It's in the bag.

-My bottle, my phone, hand me, give me, Jesus…

-Answer it.

-Christ. Hello... No, it's Smithy... He can't, he's feeding a fuckin' baby…

-Language!

-It's the boss, he wants you.

-Hold her.

-Jesus.

-Yes… Uh-huh… Uh-huh… He said that?... I see… Are we sure?

-Cukoo. Choo-choo. Open your mouth, baby... Uh, fuck this…

-Okay, boss. If we're sure.

-I can't feed a baby, man.

-Give me the baby.

-So, well… what did he say?

-Franklin isn't coming.

-Oh…

-He had a chat with the boss, apparently. A rather interesting one.

-Oh?

-Oh, Smithy.

-Well, what did he say?

-Smithy, Smithy…

-What... did he... did he say something... about me?

-I'm sorry for this, Smithy. I really am.

-Wait, if he said something about me he's lying… The man is a goddamned lying sack of… Wait… What are you… No, don't!!

-Shhh, sweetheart. Everything is fine. Grandpa will just put the nice sleeping man in the trunky-trunk and then we'll go ride on a horsey-horse. Let's put on your coaty-coat…