[He laughs, short and sharp, at that.] That I am, if it's what you mean by taking out and putting in all the innards and putting a pretty face on someone just before they find their rest in the cold, cold dirt. Where I'm from, we call it a mortician.

[He waves the now empty cup in the air, though really he doesn't seem to care about it or the loss of his drink so much as the banter he's getting out of it.] Not much difference. Still lost my cup in the end. What, then, should I do about this, mmm?