[Feed catches the bent over form of Greed; thumbs laced into the loops of his leather slacks, heels kicked out at a slant. He's bent over the cliff of his hips, sunglasses acting like pure-black sockets where two eyes should probably be.]
[He raises both eyebrows, quirks them in a curious gesture.] Oi, oi, oi - [Droned out in the back of his throat, tongue clicks those pointed teeth lined up straight in a row.] - you all right, lovely? Need a bit of help?