Al’s eyebrows shot up whimsically at Batshit’s mercurial change of tone. Holding out both hands in peace signs, he said, “Peace out, ace. “Swear not at all, neither by Heaven for it is God’s throne, nor by heaven for it is His footstool.’ That’s what she says inna Good Book.” He grinned and lit a cigarette using his big stainless steel Zippo.

“Still an’ all, reckon I’ll do my best.”