68.

London sleeps like a rock. Literally. He's incapable of sleep.

Half the problem is Phoenix mumbling revenge schematics in his unconsciousness; the other half is the spin-off ideas this gives London. Blend with a dozen Hail Marys, cold, and you've got yourself a nice little mixed metaphor, complete with the twist of irony.

He climbs to the ramparts, to see everything. Tonight it's a ship, swiftly moving east.