Yeah, no kidding.
Oh,Definitely. My dear, dear friend, Definitely. Haven’t you learned by now that you shouldn’t trust Jean Descole? Yup, I told Broneph all about your plans. What a delicious outcome, too! I’m sure you’re aware that Broneph has a whole fucking entire army behind him. I’m talking about an actual army here, not just five wimpy butthurt friends that don’t know the first thing about combat. All of your asses are grass now.
Oh, and one last thing, Jonathan is fine. The cancer story was bullshit. I just figured that if I was going to fake my loyalty to you, why not get two birds stoned at once and steal more money from you the same time? I had so much fun playing with you! You should stop by my castle sometime to say hello to the newest addition to my family.
He rolled his eyes.
“Bravo. You’re quite the actor, as expected. It’s disgusting how you’d try to toy with my emotions in such a way. You’ve never shown a sliver of compassion towards your butler until now, and I know for a fact that you would care less if he fell ill. Also, it is quite odd how the price for this supposed surgery is the same sum of money you have been pestering me for. Isn’t that odd? I find that odd. Descole, do you find that odd?!
My answer. Is. No.”
“Ummm, one, nice line you stole there. And two, I’m not lying. Jonathan even said it himself.”
“I hope you like funerals, buddy, because I’m inviting you to Jonathan’s. Have a good life because Jonathan won’t.”
Descole telepathically hung up and shouted to his butler upstairs, “JONATHAN!!!! IT DIDN’T WORK.”
“It’s about time that you picked up. I’ve been standing in this same spot for nearly an hour now, which is funny because I just realized that this is a telepathic conversation and I could have walked around if I wanted to. Anyway, I have to confess something to you. I was lying about the laser shark. The real reason I want the money is because my butler, Jonathan, is dying. I can’t remember what kind of cancer the doctor says that he has, but it’s bad. He doesn’t have long to live, but the doctor says that there is a special surgery that can save his life. Unfortunately, I am £3,000 too short to afford the surgery. It’s true, Definitely. The only reason I didn’t tell you this is because I knew you wouldn’t believe that I, Jean Descole, actually do have a heart. But I do have a heart, and that heart wants £3,000. Please help me - no - Jonathan get better, and in return I will give it my all to help you and your friends who were victimized by Bronev. What do you say, friend?”
Descole crossed his fingers.
Descole wiped the tears from his mask and climbed out of his (literal) blanket of shame that he was hiding under. He had to make things right. He had to telepathically call Definitely back.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Pick up the fucking phone please!