"Where we be goin', boss-mon? I still be feelin' bad from dat green stuff da bartenda gave me...so I won't be in much of a fightin' spirit anytime soon, mon. Or flyin' straight, for dat matta."
"Huh? Oh!" Banger extends a hand to the dreadlocked new guy. Sorry I haven't had time to give you a proper welcome before now, but I've read your file, Jonah & I'm glad you're here...but please, I'm not your boss mon...I'm your wing mon! He said with a genuine smile.
As the six of them make their way up the alley towards the Erinloch reservoir, he half listens to Eriksson & Druce with one ear, while he plays the audio transcript he received through his neural-net with the other.
As they pass a particularly large bluish-green bush on the curbside, he plucks a small leaf & offers it to Jonah.
Chew on this. Swallow the saliva, but make sure you don't swallow the plant matter itself. I promise you'll feel better in a few minutes.
"Well, I think that setting you up as "The Order of Bretonia" won't be that hard since, as you said already......."
As Matthew breathes the air those words are carried on, he is instantly choked with rage & stops in his tracks as if he hit a brick wall.
He takes a couple of deep breaths to keep himself under control before continuing his footfalls
The conversations continue & the Banger Grim stews.
"Pardon me?" he finally asked Eriksson as politely & diplomatically as he could through gritted teeth while imagining the specific sound this mans neck would make if he decided to go ahead & just snap it.
"You are our guest here Sir," Matthew said in a calm & measured tone that betrayed his extreme anger. "so with all due respect, I'll tell you right here & right now that if the Order is entertaining any delusions whatsoever of trying to fold us within your organization as some sort of "BRANCH" or something, then you've wasted your time...Please Sir, do notfor a moment overestimate your organizations importance to the Gaians!
"Excuse me everyone, I have business to attend to in the residential cavern."
Banger turns & walks off before he does something truly rude.
Turning the corner towards the north alley, he absent mindedly wipes the blood on his shirt that he drew when his fingernails dug into his palms through his white-knuckled clenched fists mere moments ago.