Nobody does. But I'm tired of giving every mad dog the benefit of the doubt, telling the poor bastards who're decent inmates that there's hope, of dealing with jackasses among the wardenry who think their behavior is charming and their friends are intrinsically better folk.

No: the only difference between them and myself is that I'll admit that I'm without any special virtue. Every man for himself: devil take the hindmost.

To hell with this place, Prefect. If I knew how to say goodbye I'd already be gone.

[He's not sure why this is coming up now, but better Prefect hear it when he forgets that Stildyne's insulted his friends. He knows how far down on the ladder he sits, and he likes Prefect's company.]

Your room. Do you need something to eat?