CARLA: …How does it feel, y’know, having the chance to get sent behind bars anyday?
Someone could catch me in the act. Felix could rat me out. You could rat me out. I could turn myself in. It's an everyday risk. That's what makes it fun.
CARLA: You're one fucked up individual, mate.
Do people even know about this..thing you do?
CHRIS: I reckon no. Just you, Monty and Felix, obviously. At least I hope. Otherwise I'd probably be on the electric chair by now.
CARLA: Tsch..and Cindy doesn't know? I thought she would, her having her nose in everyone’s business and what not.
CHRIS: Nah, nah. I think Felix might be keeping it from her. Dunno why, she's as much of a psycho as he is…
CARLA: He’s paranoid! He's one little accident away from being locked up and shit! His life would be SOOO over! He doesn't want this bum telling on him by accident!
CHRIS: You’ve got a point, hater…
Anyway, shouldn't you be at home since Einstein’s legs are acting up again? Don't you have something to do besides shit talking?
CARLA: Woah woah woah there! It was just inflammation or whatever! He ain't dying.. And don't YOU have something better to do? Fuckin’ Jack the Ripper here’s telling me what I should be doing! What a world..tch..what a world.
CHRIS: Just finish that cigarette and go home. I can feel the milk spoiling in my bag as we speak.
Chris shakes his head and takes a drag of his almost finished cigarette, Carla copying the same action.
Carla is blunt. Cunning. Fearless. She's not afraid to do what she does. In fact, she's confident in her illegal craft, perhaps overly confident.
That makes her mistake Felix’s cold secrecy for cowardness.
Felix Huxley is not a pussy that Carla paints him as. There's not a hint of fear or nervousness coming from Felix whenever he presents his new target, or whenever he hands over the promised stash of blood money. He enjoys this little sidehustle. It's all professionalism radiating off of him. He simply does not bother to show mercy or care.
That’s definitely not paranoia.
They are sick. We are sick.