[Atlas has plenty of great friends, actually. The people he'll sit down and actually plan this shit with, the real core group—well, they're all scumbags, but almost none of them are as clinically insane as Peach Wilkins. For what it's worth. Atlas tries his best to keep them placated with booze and other drugs so they don't shoot up with ADAM and lose their minds, but thugs with burning fists are so useful.

It's these thugs who are sitting around the room behind Atlas, and who look up from their work when Jack comes into view. A few of them perk up in interest, but most of them only fix him with a critical stare and then go back to what they were doing. Atlas glances over his shoulder, considering whether or not it's the right time to throw Jack into the center of things, as it were...

The center of things with other sane people, really. The kid can swing a wrench, but can he talk to anyone who isn't Atlas? He isn't sure, so he takes half a step closer to Jack in turn, maybe blocking Jack's view of the room beyond a little more. Maybe he's blocking their view of Jack; maybe both! Very fun!]

Workin' hard to make Rapture the greatest city on earth, o'course. Feelin' better? Get all that stuff about seein' ghosts outta your system?