With a deep breath before exhaling slowly Slater frowned. This rift between him and Fisher was becoming serious and so drastic action was needed. Licking his lips he stared into the fireplace before tilting his head and moving his beady eyes to Delia's face. "Then, my love, you know what has to go."
As if to put his point further across he wiggled his top lip, almost ruefully. It was his identity, almost his stamp, his trademark - without it he'd be like any other man. And that's what he needed.