He should stop. He should find an escape route. But no, he can't, he's been asked of the church, it's too late, he has to tell more...

"Dependence would be of the ascertained mother fuckin individual, my ninja. Of myself, my family, and those souls erroneously misplaced, I would seek of salvation. With what righteous fucking verbiage that could be slung henceforth, it is mission and most bitchin proclivity to be preaching the pious noise. Long live our saviours, the Mirthful Messiahs! Honk!"

His drink sloshes only a little when his hands shoot up involuntarily with the holy praise.