In other circumstances, Ivan might have offered him a job. Sadly, with a few notable meta exceptions, dead men didn’t code very well.

All of us, together, are the unlovable, the unreformable. We, the people, who are deemed incapable of existing alongside society. But, we did just that in the forming of this guild. We have done more than simply build a place to sleep and eat and plan elaborate heists. We have found a place that we, at long last, belong. All of you remember how important that feeling was the first time you truly experienced it here… This guild is more than just an organization and a council and various members. To me, from the beginning, this guild has been a family. It is a place for people like us, the ones who had no place of their own. We made it ourselves, carved out a space in the world that we could call home.

Sooner or later, they’ll realize that having one spider in the house kills a lot of the lesser insects.

To put it as simply as possible, I ate a god.

In case it has slipped your notice, the vast majority of your education has emphasized survival and not getting caught.”
“I’d say you talked more about the code than anything else,” Tory pointed out.
“What did you think I meant by survival,” Ivan countered.

Ivan, task handled, lowered his hand, pausing only to pop his knuckles. He turned to face his apprentice. He cleared his throat, and took one quick glance over his shoulder where the angry giant robot stormed across the desert, before addressing Tory.
“That was satisfactory.