So, you must be after Miss Leigh then.
Business, not pleasure.
Though obviously not for revenge, man. You've hardly got the face for that.
And you have?
Feh! How moronic a question is that, eh?
I don't even have a face, man!
Came down here looking for work, and what do I get, eh?
Miss Leigh's cosmetic company and her lab assistant job.
No experience necessary. Good wage. Accommodation with it.
Aye, locked in a flotation tank for days
on end in some fetid syrup.
And when we come out - 'cause lots was applied, like -
no face or flesh, man!
And a booting down the waste disposal chute here. Presumed dead!
Some kind of failed experiment then?
Oh, ta very much! But, aye.
And for added insult,
when I tried to take my own life, I found it just didn't work.
You mean Sophia's testing some sort of immortality power?
Along with her own brand of facelift.
Oh, aye, man! Everlasting beauty.
She's obviously not fully worked it out yet.
She takes the best results for herself.
See, I don't care what your business with her is. You can't be any more shiftless than what she is.
So I'm going to go out of my way to help you. That is, after you've done something for us here, like.
Very generous of you. What do you want?
A bottle of that mummy preservation stuff.
From the natural history museum.
Embalming fluid?
Aye. For rotten flesh, you cannae whack it, man.
The museum's pretty interesting, I'm told.
You'll like it.
So why don't you go yourself?
One of them Egyptian lassies there is a bit pissed off, like,
that she didn't get immortality the way she wanted it.
And seeing as we'd done better than her in that department,
I didn't care to imagine what curse we could get given any worse than we've got already, like.
You'll be fine though, pet. You die easily.
Thanks!