— Where's the infant?
— In a secured facility. Why?
— Where's the facility?
— Rex just fed, so he won't be hunting for a while.
— Just fed? I assume you're talking about Eddie? You might show a little more respect, the man saved our lives by giving his.
— Then his troubles are over. My point is, predators don't hunt when they're not hungry.
— No, only humans do.
— Oh, you're breaking our hearts! Saddle up, let's get this moveable feast under way!
Peter, if you want me to run your little camping trip, there are two conditions: firstly, I'm in charge, and when I'm not around, Dieter is. All you need to do is sign the checks, tell us we're doing a good job, and open your case of Scotch when we have a good day. Second condition: my fee? You can keep it. All I want in exchange for my services is the right to hunt one of the tyrannosaurs. A male, a buck only. How and why are my business. Now if you don't like either of those two conditions, you're on your own. So go ahead, set up base camp right here, or in a swamp, or in the middle of a Rex nest for all I care. But I've been on too many safaris with rich dentists to listen to any more suicidal ideas, OK?
— Why don't people listen to me? I use plain and simple English, I don't have any accent that I'm aware of...
— Oh, shut up.
- 1
- 2