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- Oh, well, I won. - The servant glances at the discard pile. - Buddy, you had a flush.
- What am I supposed to think? I'm not an alien, not a cultist, and I don't even have any tattoos. I'll keep living here as I have been, unless they kick me out, of course.
—I've forgotten how to count to five; it happens in my condition. —Klin sheepishly tapped his dead head. —It's good that we weren't betting... although it's not as exciting. Never mind, I'll sell some of my southern belongings to someone, and then things will be completely different. —He patted the huge bag on his back.
—That's certainly a good life philosophy, but... I used to think the same way, and then I was surprised when the authorities suddenly came after me, and no one could stand up for me. Well, to be precise, I went to them myself, but you get the idea.