"Well, what choice did I have? You seemed so — adamant." He's still chucking. "Man-sized wereducks," he scoffs, picking up their plates and ambling back into the kitchen.

"You forget, I've been out of bar with Ellen Park. Man-sized crab things. No really. Wouldn't go down but for a 12 gauge slug to the face." He's completely serious.

He flexes his wrist, working out the tightness from the injure. "Wereducks," he laughs under his breath. "You almost had me."