[This poor poor man. Niko, for the life of him, only has sympathy in his soul for a moment because he wishes that he had armor as impenetrable as Bertie's life bubble is.]

[But then that looks ebbs to one of exhausted acceptance.]

Bertie, I was indeed planting seeds as deep as I could get them, but if I end up with green thumbs I'm going to be very angry and complain to the management.

So what are you doing? How goes the festival for you?