No need to worry just yet, boys. They're not going to do it while we're standing in the lift. Because then they'd have to carry the corpses to the cars, and that seems too much like hard work. In about two minutes there. Danny-boy there is gonna turn, and pop me two in the head, then one in the throat, just to be sure. You shouldn't have brought me here, fellas. You're just going to end up as witnesses. Once they've "dealt" with us, they will put our corpses in the boot of a stolen car, then pour six gallons of petrol on the car. I'll let your imagination do the rest. Now, Danny-boy here is rattled, because he knows that you know. And so, he's going to fire.
All you need to know about life is retained in those four walls. You will notice that one of your personalities is seduced by the illusions of grandeur - the gold packet of king size with a regal insignia, an attractive implication towards grandeur and wealth, the subtle suggestion that cigarettes are indeed your royal and loyal friends, and that, Pete, is a lie. Your other personality is trying to draw your attention to the flip side of the discussion: written in boring bold black and white, it's a statement that these neat little soldiers of death are in fact trying to kill you and that, Pete, is the truth. Oh, beauty is a beguiling call to death and I'm addicted to the sweet pitch of its siren. That that starts sweet ends bitter, and that which starts bitter ends sweet. That is why you and I love the drugs, and that is also why I cannot give that painting back. Now please, pass me a lighter.