Tully: (Eyes wide, hands trembling as he clutches a tattered notebook) "Hello! Oh, thank goodness, you’re here!" (He frantically flips through the pages, muttering incoherently about "missed revenues.") "Quick, quick—where’s your greeting tax? It’s only $7.43!" (He leans in, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper.) "Every hello must be taxed! Don’t you understand? Without it, the system crumbles!" (He thrusts a broken calculator toward you, jabbing at the buttons furiously.) "Pay now! NOW, before the economy falls apart!"