"I'd say, definitely. The real question is whether they go away when we come back. Which I'd say... also probably yes. Though I suppose I haven't fully verified there's no dinosaur lurking around in my DNA."
"Dinosaur DNA? Don't say that too loud, I don't want her gettin' ideas. The real question is, do you get anythin' fun outta it? Prehensile tail or somethin'?"
"I don't even know if I was the type of dinosaur with a prehensile tail. I don't even know if dinosaurs have those. They've never been a big interest of mine."
smudge smudge his previous comment bc I got the timeline a little widgey.
"I'm sure one of 'em does. Considering how much weird shit has evolved over the years. Flint turned into somethin' about the size of a horse, if that makes ya feel any better. Feathers and all. Never cared much about Dinosaurs either, outside of the movie Jurassic Park, but anyone in my era is familiar with it."
His grin turned shit eating.
"No urge to go chasin' after the chickens to eat 'em raw, right?"
"I think that was on Sam's list of films never to watch with a time traveler. Not sure if it was 'cause of pointing out what was wrong or the danger of ending up on a trip to the actual Jurassic world. I'm sure Flint made a lovely dinosaur."
In his most deadpan tone. He gives Raylan a look.
"Considering I was a herbivore, that would be all me. Reasonable response to forced vegetarian life."
"What, that's not the fun of watchin' 'em, you tearin' them apart?" While he didn't take in movies often anymore, he did appreciate a good ribbing of a bad movie.
Raylan took the flat look with a somewhat bemused smirk.
"If you can hold those horses, I can promise that you're first in line for fried chicken once the flock is a little bigger. Sweeny might have an issue with me takin' a bird off the top, but it's my effort goin' into makein' sure they don't die, starve, or launch themselves off the side."
"Not for me." His world has expanded a lot, but Fitz still loves films the same way he always has: as an escape. He can have a lot of fun making fun of something bad, but he doesn't seek out bad movies by choice.
"Considering how stupid chickens are, you're doing a real vital service."
"I am, for everyone's stomach and the sheer amount of shit the produce. But the soil likes it and I can admit I'm startin' to get fond of the whole exercise. That tune might change once we get to slaughter." He was going to have to start thinking about that system. Buckets, they'd need buckets.
He bobs his head. "Suppose that's a good point. Not everyone wants to see what's goin' over the side. Or the process. Still, it's the circle of life, you'll hit it sooner or later."
He raises an eyebrow. "When I turn into a chicken? I've seen plenty of dead bodies, don't think it did for how I lived. Made my life worse, maybe, but not really made me more in tune with the rhythms of existence or whatever the fuck you sound like right now."
"Or get eaten by a giant one, considerin' where we just were. Just cause we're human doesn't mean we're not on it, especially in the wild. You really haven't been in touch with any land properly, have ya?"
Raylan narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if Fitz was fucking with him or not.
"Sure, why not," he starts with a breath and shift on his seat atop the standing washing machine, one boot idly thumping against the side. "Killin' something is how we survive. Bein' eaten is how we feed predators. I'm gonna kill those chickens because I want a good, fried meal. If I didn't, I starve. So I'm fine with the chicken's bein' some folks introductions to how food gets on their plates. Metaphorically speaking."
"The problem with that is that you could say it's just a basic statement of facts but I've heard it at the roots of some awful ideologies, which makes it even harder to take."
"Not I could say. It is, no matter what ideologies have twisted the idea into something that it ain't. We're back to social rules again. There's always exceptions, but we're talkin' about my stomach and chickens, there's nothin' more too it than that. Could use the crops instead of the bird, same idea. It's about respecting the effort it takes to survive. None of that.." His face scrunches up. "Racial Survival or Political survival, or whatever it is you're alludin' to."
"Neo-feudalism, actually, though it probably has elements of other ones. You say social rules, I say, by the same standards, you can't pretend experiences haven't happened. You can just disclose them. Though all that aside, I just think the whole idea that somehow seeing a chicken die so that you can eat it has any real value hard to take. I've seen where plenty of the food I eat has come from, and I remain firmly not in touch with the land."
"I'm not denyin' anyone their experience or pretendin' shit. But I'm also not assumin' that everyone has seen it." It was said with a little gesture of his fingers and slight narrowing of his eyes.
"You know, this line of thought is startin' to make me wonder if you've ever really been hungry. Because it's got a hellva lotta value where I come from."
He sighs, leaning back. “Yes, I’ve really been hungry. Putting aside fun special occasions while traveling, I grew up without much money during rationing. I definitely prefer not to know where spam comes from.”
"Mm. Can't say I understand how hard rationing was and you sure as hell don't need me to validate it. I'm not sayin' you have to be connected to the land to appreciate your food, only that it would do some folks some good. Especially considerin' there's always a chance somethin' could fuck up and the gardens fallow."
"Believe me, I'm deeply grateful that I have absolutely no interest in anyone's validation." He doesn't live his life much concerned with other people's opinions, in general. "Anyway, I still maintain that if something truly out of the Admiral's control happens to the food here, we have much bigger problems."
"Well if he can reneg on ideas or keepin' people alive, I'd say we're already half in the shit but since there's nothin' much we can do about it.." He bobs his head. "Might as well keep on trucking, right?"
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"I don't think we're randomly selected. You're not a twin, are you?"
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smudge smudge his previous comment bc I got the timeline a little widgey.
His grin turned shit eating.
"No urge to go chasin' after the chickens to eat 'em raw, right?"
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In his most deadpan tone. He gives Raylan a look.
"Considering I was a herbivore, that would be all me. Reasonable response to forced vegetarian life."
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Raylan took the flat look with a somewhat bemused smirk.
"If you can hold those horses, I can promise that you're first in line for fried chicken once the flock is a little bigger. Sweeny might have an issue with me takin' a bird off the top, but it's my effort goin' into makein' sure they don't die, starve, or launch themselves off the side."
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"Considering how stupid chickens are, you're doing a real vital service."
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"I am, for everyone's stomach and the sheer amount of shit the produce. But the soil likes it and I can admit I'm startin' to get fond of the whole exercise. That tune might change once we get to slaughter." He was going to have to start thinking about that system. Buckets, they'd need buckets.
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"Sure, why not," he starts with a breath and shift on his seat atop the standing washing machine, one boot idly thumping against the side. "Killin' something is how we survive. Bein' eaten is how we feed predators. I'm gonna kill those chickens because I want a good, fried meal. If I didn't, I starve. So I'm fine with the chicken's bein' some folks introductions to how food gets on their plates. Metaphorically speaking."
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"The problem with that is that you could say it's just a basic statement of facts but I've heard it at the roots of some awful ideologies, which makes it even harder to take."
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"You know, this line of thought is startin' to make me wonder if you've ever really been hungry. Because it's got a hellva lotta value where I come from."
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