D'you hear that? It's the sound of 'bout a hundred or so decent, average people's souls whizzing by to hell, ones that weren't beyond help, while you lot were busy makin' a pet project outta savin' John from himself.

[ He breathes deep, taking down the cigarette's length by half. A long exhale and it the smoke comes out dark and thick in front of him. ]

Some way to use borrowed time, I'd say.