Don't lie. Everybody's got shame, [the type that shivers under the tongue, under the skin, the kind he wants to flay out between bodies and lap up like a sick reward.] and what would you know about me sticking my hands in people, huh?

[he hold his card up – neon – for her to see and places it on the bottom of the pile. the win is barely celebrated.]

I can feel you in here, y'know. [tapping at his temple.] Like a fuckin' radio. In, out, in, out. What kinda things are you gettin'?