KingBenny steps out of his clubhouse Guiseppe's Sicilian Pizzeria, looking fantastic as always. Not a hair out of place and dressed marvelously. In fact, several nearby women faint as a direct result of KingBenny's dashing good looks and stunning attire, cracking their heads open on the sidewalk and dying, thus coining the expression "dressed to kill" that would be used for decades to come. He stands on a nearby stoop and addresses the crowd that has congregated around him

"To all Friends of Ours, as you all may know, I like to keep my ear to the streets and I'm afraid I may have some startling news for you all that will effect everyone in our line of work, so listen up."

"As if it wasn't bad enough we gotta deal with these damn FBI and FBN breathing down our necks every time we try to make a living, I have reason to believe that the government has put together a new task force aimed at taking us down."

"Unfortunately I don't have many details, just whispers overheard here and there on these very streets, but it's importnat you all be aware, and I ask that if any of you have additional information on this new potential thorn in our sides that you PLEASE offer any info you can."

"They are operating under the letters LMAO. I wish I had more info on them but I do not. I have heard them mentioned on the streets quite often lately, yet I dare ask about them. A man in my position must keep a low profile and I can't afford to raise any eyebrows by asking questions. Just be aware of this potential threat. I fear they may be in cohoots with the ROTFL, who I also fear to be a top-secret government agency."

"Consider yourselves warned."

Ah, yes, the Law-Makers Association of Observation.  Quite a daring and sophisticated group of investigators.  They seem to be on call--like superheroes  I've  had certain gangsters rat on me and call for their help when all I was trying to do was tell a dirty joke!  Apparently, they go above and beyond the normal call of duty.

I'll heed the warning, and keep my eyes peeled for these law enforcers. Perhaps gathering intelligence, and blackmailing their main man may be a good option to keep them off of our backs.

Tallien managed to step around the fainting women, marking them firmly under the 'easy prey' category in his mind, before catching his eye on the stunning attire, so obviously associated with to KingBenny, that he'd had enough practice to maintain himself in the land of the living whilst undertaking said marking and catching.

He listened to what the King had to say and he felt his brow moisten and his pulse quicken. People had begun to gather to pick this mental fruit that was growing from the KingBenny Tree planted in the streets. Tallien had to say something. He'd come this far.

He'd been thinking of something amusing to say in response to this speech since Benny began, his mammoth intellect had already fashioned various different hilarious tidbits, ranging from polite agreement to mild mockery. After much mental deliberation however, he was alarmed to discover that he had reached the inevitable conclusion that KingBenny was clearly a well dressed individual capable of killing people with his dashing good looks and stunning attire. He knew that going in. Things did not look good.

This conclusion rankled Tallien. His hackles were raised and a moral dilemma arose in a completely immoral person. He was driven to ask himself if he truly did want to say something after all and thus question whether he wanted to out-funny Benny, who at that moment in time, was the proud owner of the only voice Tallien had heard on the streets lately, who's intelligent and amusing words hadn't pushed him any further towards wanting to gouge out his own eyes. This was because he had already metaphorically chopped off my own ears lest they heard another ridiculous and hideously repetitive anecdote about Jonny Noname's life, likely involving him killing loads of people and being the fucking man.

Note: Jonny Nomark wasn't the fucking man. Jonny Nomark was invariably a piece of shit waste of space and Tallien's time.

Decisions, decisions. "What do I do?" Tallien asks himself. He weighs it all up in his head. The mental scale precariously balanced - his own unflinching desire to be hilarious vs. not wanting to potentially silence a beacon of hope; the fire to these cheap stories that clog his once adored cobbles. Burn trash, burn.

"The pros are clear, the cons are obvious." Tallien muttered "Do I share my gift with this glorious, story-addled audience that flock from the back alleys and Headquarters every day wanting more or do I congratulate this important gentlemen on his excellent speech, swallow my own pride, cause another blemish to rise on my blemish-ridden soul and become just another shit-eater? Another Rourke?"

The internal battle raged. He didn't know the right answer. Was there a right answer? Would a LOL be witty enough or just too obviously kindergarten? Is there a too obviously kindergarten? Tallien pondered that for a moment but whilst it was a difficult question he was fairly certain the answer to this at least was a resounding no.

His pulse quickened. "I'm stalling." He whispered under his breath. Back and forth swings the pendulum. He'd been talking for several minutes and was getting a tad worried he had lost 90% of the listeners when he eliminated the option of them responding 'nice read' without looking like a slobbering idiot, dripping their stupid all over their own shoes. Swing.

"I'm going to just put lolz, that's elitist enough to exclude those not IRC-literate, but not as elitist as closing an RP like I only want the peasants to witness my talent not try their hands at it." Back peon, genius at work. Swing.

"God I'm running out of time." This was easily the most difficult decision he'd ever had to make.

"Euthanasia? Abortion? What are these moral insignificances compared to this?" Swing.

It was clear by now that Tallien was in line to speak. Hagen had taken the bullet and gone first. Skaarn had knocked one out of the park. People held their breath. Swing. The birds stopped their song. Swing. The wind died. Swing. Silence. Swing.

With the deafening sound of the pendulum ringing in his ears Tallien decided to leave instead without saying anything further other than:

"~T~"