human
Suet,
gpt
What?
human
Suet, sir. That's 'bout what he's made on. Sort of soft fat man. There's no harm in him, only softness. Think of a fellow being so scared that he goes and shuts hisself up and drinks hisself into a state o' muddle so as not to know what's going on. Why, if one's got to be drowned, one wants to make a bit of a fight for it. Never say die, my lad. Life in a mussel, you know. Oh, there's no harm in old bile-the-pot, only I shouldn't like to depend on him in a row, though he could do us a lot o' good.
gpt
How?
human
Lot of ways, my lad. Cook's got a good many advantages, you see. Red-hot pokers is one; pots and kettles o' boiling water's another, without counting the long sharp knives; but he won't do nothing, and I must. Don't walk too near the wild beasts' cage, my lad, I'm going aft.