Hey, smells like someone cut the turkey without me!

[Zaeed marched right on in and smelled the rank, sour odor of whatever mash had been stewing and turning into something potent, if not actually pleasant. Slapping Vash on the shoulder, he grabbed a seat and took ahold of the cloudy pail of death before grunting.]

Be a good lad. We're god-damned sharing, and if we both go blind, Hilbert gets to have some fun with that shit.