Yeah. I'd say we should have a redo but I think everyone there learned their lesson. I lost track at about thirteen drinks in, I know Crichton was way past that at one point. Sharky had to carry me back to the ship and I don't even remember that until I woke up in my room totally unsure what day it was. And then faceplanted in the hallway.

No see that's not how this works. I'm supposed to make you have some self-esteem and shit. This isn't about me! You're twisting it. [He huffs and folds his arms.]

Uh-huh. Sure. How about this: we both agree to not shit talk ourselves for a full day and then we go make pizza out of the stuff in the buffet?