[Sharky's just hoping Pratt makes it back to his room before collapsing. Ugh, it probably hurts pretty bad. They're both used to going without painkillers for minor(ish) injuries, but that still doesn't stop his sympathy.]

Me fuckin' too, man! I mean, the food here is delish, no lie, but it's all fuckin' normal shit. Must suck if your favorite comfort food is, like, roast wampa or some shit... [He's glad his comfort food is bacon, Doritos and energy drinks, that's for sure.] Closest I've gotten is by, like, orderin' weird shit at the bar, but I think that's just sorta me fuckin' with the ghosts. Brad's cool and all, but I don't think he knows how to actually make a Pan Galactic whatever-the-fuck.