[It's the look in Mickey's eyes that scares him - the implicit intent behind it. The covetousness, which, really, he should have thought of. Who wouldn't want to be a little, or a lot, richer leaving this place than they were coming in? He knows Mickey worries about money. He knows Mickey isn't anything like Chris. He knows, too, that one of the reasons Chris has never given him that look is because he doesn't need it; his talk of transformation work schemes was always ever just that, talk.]

[But looking at Mickey, Cassel sees what he was always cautioned to stay away from. What would happen if he let anyone know what he was. For the first time since he came here, he realizes that he could just that easily be reduced to a commodity, a thing. A printing press.]

[He makes a face, now, feeling a little unsettled. Later, he'll be terrified.]

Your mom's a printing press.

If you introduce too many into the market, you'll fuck it up and they'll be useless, you know.