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thinkb4ublinkRoy.
It's Del Boy.
Look. Let's level here. You're not all right. You're dead. [It's left like that for ages.
Finally, he gives up and activates the video. He's looking slightly haggard.]
What are you doin' here? Eh? I mean, yeah. You done... fings. Things I don't... [He shifts uncomfortably.] I done some things too, though.
[Pause as he rubs his face.] First, I thought this was a bit of a lark, yeah? Prison in space. And this... well, it's not the Ritz, but it's better than my old flat, that's for sure.
But the monkeys on board 'ere, mate. This is... well, this is... you don't deserve this. And according to this... [He points at the camera.] fing. You don't have friends here, mate.
I mean, I'm not surprised. [He gives an uncomfortable smile but there's no real strength behind it.] But, here, on your own... rough. [His jaw hardens, as if he's slightly angry.] This ain't right!
Not even you, Slater, deserve to brung 'ere like some... freak of nature... or bloody Bond villain and just... left here... on yer own. [He shrugs.]
Me and Raquel, we're happy, wiv Damien. Our son. And that happened... just a few years ago. Still, you can live.
[He juts out his chin.] Maybe I can make one o' those deals wiv this Admiral bloke. He's a deal broker an' I'm a trader, we've... we've gotta be able to think o' somefing, right? Time doesn't have ta move, right?
[He reaches for the communicator, to switch it off.]
