You said you loved me.

You said you loved me.

You said you loved me.

You said you loved me.

You said you loved me.

Liar.

You said you needed me.

Bitch.

You said you'd never felt this way about anyone before... not even that dimwit Terminator knockoff that everyone was so bloody quick t' defend... not yer little school-time boyfriend wot ate that bullet those few years ago...

Fuckin'...

You said I made you feel pretty. You said you felt like a supermodel when I looked at you, when I touched you...

You...

You LIED.

Pryde...

And I was a bloody stupid git fer believin' you.

I'm sorry...

Stupid t' think I could be somethin' I'm not... stupid t' believe it when you told me I belonged...

I didn't mean it.

I take it all back, Pryde. Didn't mean a bloody word. Don't give a damn about you or yer team or that fuckin' 'Dream' you mindless plonkers follow...

It's not yer fault.

'What needs to be done.' Yeah, I did what needed t' be friggin' done. I left yer whining little arse standing on that soddin' island, and I hope you rot there, I hope yer miserable there, I hope you spend every goddamn day wondering how the bloody hell you fucked it all up so bad...

I miss you.

And next time we see each other -- this lifetime'd be too soon -- I'll show you just how much I care about the months I wasted with you.

They were everything.

I don't need this shit.

I need you.

I've got better things to do.

I'd rather do them with you.

And you can just... just kiss my bleedin' arse, that's what you can do. Kiss my arse and try t' remember what it was like when I gave a shit about you.

If I could just talk to you again...

I hope yer cryin', Pryde. I hope yer miserable. I hope yer... yer...

Thinkin' o' me.

Gettin' drunk as hell.

Remember that time you tried t' match me drink fer drink? Yer so competitive... god, I love that about you...

Listenin' t' those warbling Yanks while they babble out that disgusting country music, that's the torture I hope yer sittin' through right now...

We never even picked out our own song.

I'll bet Wagner's havin' a blast with this. And MacTaggert... HAH! She must love it. Ol' Peter Wisdom, finally off her bloody island, not stinkin' up her medlab anymore with his disgustin' fags...

I caught her smokin', once. She was sittin' out back, all bundled up against the cold. I didn't know she was there, or I would've right gone some other fuckin' place. Her hands were shaking... bad day fer Legacy, I guess... and I could tell she'd been cryin'. I sat down and had a smoke with her. We didn't say a word, neither of us. Just sat there and smoked like some old dodgers sittin' on a porch at an old folks' home. That's when I realized that she'd given up on finding a cure fer herself, and she was ready t' let the bloody Reaper come drag her off.

Make the world a better place fer that harridan t' meet her maker.

She threw the fag away and stood up like she was goin' t' leave. I told her to sit her overworked arse down and enjoy the friggin' 'beautiful' Scottish weather. She said no thanks, she had work t' do. I told her she was lyin'... she weren't goin' t' do no work, and she bloody well knew it. She gave me this look... this look like she was a thousand bloody years old an' she knew a million things I'd never figure out. She said she weren't stupid, an' she'd quit when god snatched her off o' this earth. An' then she told me...

Don't know why I'd ever listen t' the old bag...

... she told me that she wasn't thinkin' about death at all, an' that she was thinkin' about that bloody Irishman she's so hot fer. The one with the wail like a dyin' foghorn. An' she said she was missin' him, an' that pride kept her from callin' an' tellin' the bastard that.

Ain't surprised that woman gets all choked up with pride. She's got that bleedin' mouth on her, y'know. Never stops bitchin'. Like a fuckin' mother, that's what she is. Talks an' talks an' talks 'til you do whatever the bloody hell she's tellin' you t' do just t' shut her up.

My mother was a talker.

I told her that if she was missin' the bloke so bad, she needed t' shag her ego an' call him. But did she listen t' me? O' course not. No one thinks 'that plonker Wisdom' has a whit o' sense. An' look at her now... miserable. Shuttin' herself in a lab all day an' thinkin' that's the answer. Lockin' herself away from everyone who gives a shit 'cause she can't handle all the bloody baggage that goes with carin'. An' this woman's supposed t' be one of the fuckin' 'minds' o' the planet?

How do you stand bein' alone again after all that time with people you gave a shit about, MacTaggert? How do you stand it?

Stupid. Stubborn. Brick-headed fool.

I am.

Arrogant as hell, y'know. Cowardly, too.

Now that's a bitter thing t' admit.

Doesn't do this one little simple thing that might give life a little more meanin'.

Fuck it, Pryde, I don't want t' hear you say, 'no.'

Deserves whatever happens, that's fer sure.

You gave me grounding, Pryde. You gave me a chance t' play it straight.

Not worth a second look.

Not worth a second chance.

Just forget about it.

I can't forget about you, you stupid git.

Don't reach for the phone. Don't dial that number. Don't listen t' the fuckin' rings an' fight t' keep from hangin' up.

I'm not goin' t' try.

I'm not goin' t' let go.

I hate you.

You're the only one that ever made me feel like I was worth somethin'.

You said you loved me.

Did you love me?

You said you needed me.

I needed you.

You said... I said...

Don't answer the phone.

Answer the bloody phone.

Next ring, I swear I'm hangin' up...

... Ring after this one, I swear t' bloody hell I'm hangin' up...

I'm not callin' you tomorrow, Pryde. An' I'm not callin' you the day after that, or the day after that, or the bloody day after that, neither.

... I'm not.

Really.

A man's got t' hold onto his pride, right?

His Pryde.

He's got t'...

I knew she loved me. You can always tell with birds. No good at hidin' their feelings. Read 'em like a bloody book.

Yeah.

Not like a bloke.