[He's startled out of his moping into a snort.] Galactic consensus would agree with you, [he drawls. She's about the fiftieth person to tell him he's strange, or something like that.

Her moving makes him automatically follow, at a fast enough clip that he has to adjust his pace and slow down. Miles does everything at full speed, and he heads out of the park the same way, unconsciously taking the lead without a second thought.

Briskly,] I do have an objective. Several of them. How do you feel about investigating the whereabouts of the baby turtles? It's the obvious place for it to strike next. We need to devise a monitoring method. [Eh, he'll get his drink later. He has some muscle with him and it's the perfect time to enact step one of his tentatively forming plan.]