[There's a moment where she gives him a blank — for all that he's gifted with gab, Richie scarcely measures his words before he uses them. Even in a place where people consistently ask him to stop, rewind, and break down the play. But then the woman picks up the ball and volleys back. She's gotten the gist and so Richie carries on none the wiser to his failings.

At least for now.

He nods in affirmation.]

That sounds solid enough. I'm no expert on all this political merry-go-round, particularly when it's Kings and Queens and not an elected official in sight, but... [You're out of your element, old boy. Richie goes silent for a moment as he tries to work out his worries, carding his hand through his hair.] I can see this sort of thing getting shunted to the wayside, too. It'd be a cinch to put up a table and chairs for the reps and close the doors on them when it comes to anything important. There'd have to be some guarantee...official duties. Something of an overhaul to the way things are run, so that there's room for their input.

[He pops his hands on his hips and gives a dramatic sigh, switching over to the humble Irish cop. That one's become something of a default for him now, when the other nine-hundred and ninety nine of his voices go missing and he can't think of anything regular that's worth saying.]

Far be it from a empty-pocketed laddie loike meself to tell the Lahrds on high how to carry out the law. Give me a ring-a-ling when yeh've turned the tahlk to whiskey and women, and Oi'll teach ye a thing or two, sure an begorrah.