[center][h2][color=Cyan]Randy Jones[/color][/h2][/center]

	Randy was sitting on the couch in front of the 'television,' alternating between watching the fight and watching the other 'assassins' bicker. He was drinking what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be a glass full of Guinness, with the ghost of a smile on his face. It was funny how the eight other Jones, after all this time, still fought like children. He supposed staying cooped up in one room for such a long time would do that to anyone, even though most of the other Jones were adults, or at least, were supposed to be. Taking a swig from his drink, Randy downed it in one go. He wished he could get drunk, but apparently undeath didn't let him. A shame, because he wished he could be drunk when everyone was talking.

	Standing up, Randy stretched, and popping his back, walked towards the 'television'. The target had Nick in a bad way, and, more than likely, he'd switch out with someone who was more skilled with hand-to-hand. Probably Bill or John. And as he predicted, Nick's words came through the 'television', reverberating in Randy's chest, calling for Johnathan. Laughing as he just [i]poofed[/i] out of the room, dropping his drink on the floor, Randy turned to Nick, who stood in front of the television, a bit on edge from just being in a fight. Raising his glass in greeting, Randy said, [color=Cyan]"Thanks for getting that arsehole out of here. I swear, that shitweasel makes me want to kill myself. Funny, innit. "[/color] Finishing the last of his glass, Randy walked up to the bar, setting the empty glass in front of Jarvis. [color=Cyan]"I'm done for now, Jarvis. Thanks for the Guinness. Been a while since I had any."[/color]

	Turning to the rest of the room, Randy said, [color=Cyan]"I can assume we all enjoyed seeing dear Johnny get shot, right there? I mean, I'm glad he completed the mission, but... schadenfreude is a funny thing."[/color]