When lecturing your children, be sure to point at them with your cigarette hand. It’s a hallmark of effective communication strategies.

↓ Transcript
Close-up on Morrigan exhales with a look of relief on her face

MORRIGAN: Oh, that’s the stuff.
TARA: Now will you give me some peace?

Morrigan seen from behind. Tara rolls her eyes. Fetch sits on the end of the bed with coffee in hand.

MORRIGAN: ‘Bout time yiz lit me one.
Is it too much for a sick mum to have a little sin?
TARA: Here we go.

Morrigan holding forth.

MORRIGAN: I’m at the end of my days, don’ yeh forget it.
I ain’t gettin’ better. Them druids just fill me with
poison and their crackpottery, makin’ off like bandits while I get worse.

Morrigan jabbing her cigarette in Fetch’s direction. Tara grumpy, Fetch ironic.

MORRIGAN: I could bear it, y’know, if I had the love of me children.
If I could count on ‘em to care for me. If I even knew where they were!
TARA: Thanks, ma.
FETCH: I’m here now, aren’t I?

Morrigan pets a framed picture of DONALD, her late husband.

MORRIGAN: If Donald were only here to see how they treat me.
TARA: Give it a rest!
FETCH: (sing song) Bit-ing my to-ngue nowwww….

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