Gearóid Farrelly as Vic

Daddy's boy.

And Mammy's girl.

Yep.

We knew our little roles, didn't we?

So you were sat on a table and had make-up pulling you and your hair brushed and I was sat on a barrel to watch him dispose of the women he had strangled in containers of lye.

And it wasn't until he finally brought Ma's princess to the warehouse that she decided that was enough and left with us in the middle of the night.

But it was okay for me to see women with bloodshot eyes from the cord around their neck being fed headfirst into barrels and being sat on the lid to make sure it was closed nice and tight.

Because... But we got him.

He'll rot in shit on Irish soil.

I wasn't disturbed then.

Didn't seem disturbed then.

Go ahead.

Makes no difference.

He's not going to let us off this plane alive.

Vic, why didn't we tell?

You know when the captain came over the speakers?

He said there was something coming out of the clouds, didn't he?

That wasn't just in my head.

Victoria, he wasn't knocking on the floor of the cabin.

I don't think so.