[ he appreciates the both of you for letting him postpone talking about the genocidal maniac that was millions knives for just a little longer. seriously, he does. He gives something of a crooked grin to both of them as he systematically starts stripping the roasted trout down to its literal bones, agreeing that the flavor was definitely better than roasted worms, at least. ]

Look, I'm just saying, food tastes a lot better when you aren't sporting mouth wounds. [ and he'll thank dante, as an aside--grabbing up his refilled glass and raising it, letting the harsh, cheap, but effective drink burn its way down his throat, again. He isn't the greatest drinker, he can already feel the effects of being four shots in making his head swim a little. But it's a pleasant feeling, at least, as he sways a little where he sits.

Giving Dante a nudge with his arm. ]

People do some wild shit in the desert, I'm telling you.
Guess it's normal when you're stuck in such'a shitty place and you don't got the wonders of nature to keep you occupied.

[ but now he's lookin at wolfwood too. he doesn't know about the stingers thing--just as he doesn't know about the giant laser worm cutting in half bit. that's new to him, too. ]

Heh.
You were that hard up for a cigarette before?