Sliced Bread 2: The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread

Sometimes I'm not sure about Greyghost. He's a hard guy to read. The big news from last night is that the Professionals got their asses nailed to the wall and handed over to the cops... by Icecap. All by himself. And I can't tell for sure what Greyghost thinks about this.

I know what I think about it. I've read the interview with the kid, and he's arrogant. He's like a football player drafted in the first round. The last thing he needs is to be covered in glory. Plus I resent Icecap waltzing in and collecting all the credit after all the work Greyghost and Cassie and Bob (and I) did over the weekend trying to hunt these smooks down. Sure, sure, the important thing is that somebody caught the motorscooters; I know that. I just don't choose to care at the moment.

Presumably Greyghost is a better human being than I am; he took the news in stride and even had something vaguely congratulatory to say about Icecap.

"Doesn't it bug you, though? That this little bastard whisks in and catches the guys you've been after for weeks now?"

"The sooner the Professionals are back in jail, the less danger there will be to the public. It doesn't matter who puts them there."

"But doesn't it bug you?"

"No, it doesn't."

I don't know if he's lying or not.