Conversation · Titus Hardie

There's a lump in his throat when he thinks of Glen, lying on the plaza mosaic, bleeding.

(Shake it.) "It was an honour to fight by your side."

"Likewise, copper. Likewise." His grip is strong and friendly.

(Don't shake.) "Look, I need to talk to you."

"Sure, sure." He doesn't seem to mind your rudeness.

(Shake it.) "This was a pillow fight compared to The Gloaming that is soon at hand. We shall all perish in the coming cleanse."

"Okay, Mr. Sunshine... I guess I'd be pretty gloomy too had I gotten shot in the ass." He shakes your hand and smiles.

Shake his hand and nod in silence.

"Now, how can I help you?" His grip is strong and friendly.

"Actually, I just came to say goodbye." [Leave.]

"Take care, copper!"

His hand is covered in bruises and half-plastered. Still, this hulking lump of man is glad to be alive.

This is big. It's as big of a thank-you as Titus Hardie can muster under any circumstances.

"I guess what I'm trying to say here is, thank you for intervening, coppo -- that was mighty brave of you." He extends his hand.

"That was one hell of a shot. Hell of a shot! The fucks did not expect that." He looks at you with unmistakable respect.

"I applaud the initiative, even though you can't shoot for shit, officer." He rubs his neck. "Still, that moment of confusion might just be the reason we are still standing here..."

"There I was, thinking -- where are we gonna find a tin opener large enough for those cans? Then coppo loco shows up and just sets a man on fire."

"Impressive shit, copper. None of us would be breathing right now if it wasn't for..." He pauses, then extends his hand. "I guess what I'm trying to say here is, thank you."

"I mean, you pitch like a blind harlequin on speed, but that moment of confusion might just be the reason we are still standing here..."

"I guess what I'm trying to say here is, thank you for intervening, fellas -- that was mighty brave of you." He extends his hand.

"I guess what I'm trying to say here is, thank you for intervening, coppo -- that was mighty brave of you." He extends his hand.

"Crazy motherfucker..." He lets out a whistle. "Didn't think you had that fury in you, but I guess I've misjudged a lot of people lately..."

Spotting you, the bruised man spits into the little bowl next to him.

"Look, fellows," he points at you. "It's Little Miss Pacifist... It's mighty easy when you let others do the fighting for you, isn't it?"

"Get out of here, punk! Can't you see we're honouring our dead here."

"You killed half the town," he whispers. "Remember?"

"Look, I just want to talk..."

"MOTHERFUCKER!!!" His roar almost ruptures your eardrums. "You tried to pin a murder on us! What more do you think we have to talk about?!"

"It was a tactical manoeuvre. Police work. You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, I understand alright..." he says with a disgusted grimace. "Just say your bit and get out of our booth, asshole."

"Look, I just need a moment of your time, and then you don't ever have to see me again."

"Fine," he grunts. "Talk."

"Fine, I'm leaving." [Leave.]

"I think it's about time you get the fuck out of Martinaise, don't you agree copper?"

The way the last word is emphasized suggests a veiled threat to your person.

"Shouldn't drown your sorrows in bottle. It doesn't work, believe me, I've tried."

"My condolences for your lost friends."

The lieutenant sighs.

Seeing you approach the bruised man raises his beer in welcome.