Most of the things he pictures receiving are somewhat advanced in technology for Baedal, such as electronic archives, but where there's a will, there's a black market specialist who can crack advanced technology for a small fee. Or maybe something precious, like the serums Blade relied on, or whatever the fuck that chemical was that took Deacon's life, or the cure that Karen bluffed about, assuming perhaps it wasn't.

Knowing the gods, though, he'll get another fucking goldfish.

"Sounds better than fucking around and pretending we all wanna socialise," he says, with a breath out of smoke. "What about you?"