"I fek'd a care 'an snapped it over m'fekin knee!" The newt spat, its two lower arms resting their hands on its hips. "Yeh! Yeet it in the fekin sewer wi'ol the fek n'blegh bleh bleh..." They started before trailing off and snapping their fingers a few times. With that, One and Two withdrew and the sound of crates being opened and rummaging started up in their direction. "Y'luckeh fek. Yer girlfriend's made er mind up 'fore the feks got packed up n'fek'd off fer oll th'good ya lot are!" They continued before shouting up at the other newts on the shelves who grumbled to themselves, earning a dismissive wave from the foreman who turned their attention back to Jericho and Gangraena. Taking a long drag, they narrowed their eyes as they looked between them and listening to the request for the anchor. "Tha fek's an anchor?" they asked before shaking their head, "Na. Look, yeh know if the fek-head is done wi'is fek? Tha fek wi'this war n'oll tha crap 'is boys drag back" they grumbled before leaning back with a stretch, popping their spine with a groan before looking over their shoulder and tapping a foot, impatiently. "Th ol king, rest 'em n'bless 'em, e'd 'ave none of it...probably why- Ey! Any o'ye feks 'eard of a anchor!?" they barked after musing to themselves, the onlookers muttering between themselves before shrugging. "Iz eit like a big hook?" a worker called back and the foreman turned back to Gangraena with a shrug with their free hand and an emphasized expression of cluelessness with raised brow ridges, hoping she had an answer.

A worker briskly approached the foreman from behind, placing a wooden box in his shrugging hand. "Oh. Well fek me..." he lightly chuckled, chomping on the pipe to use the hand and take the top off to reveal Jericho's pipe set into a red fabric. "Shwat y'lookin foh?" he asked, pipe hanging from its sideways mouth.
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The Stranger had sunk against the wall while the group rested and rummaged, getting acquainted. Quietly, they watched while sitting on the floor, arms around their knees and appearing to be paying attention to the conversations taking place. The clattering of Uriel's sword  made them jump a bit and they stood, taking a step closer, curious what the commotion was before Uriel's rant. Their approach made them nervously retract that step, uncertain how to give them an answer they'd be satisfied with. "[color=lightgreen]Apologies[/color]... [color=chartreuse]I[/color]- need words. [color=chartreuse]I am unsure how useful I[/color]- [color=6ecff6]can[/color]- [color=chartreuse]be[/color]- right- now" they replied with a myriad of voices, their arms defensively curling up to their chest.