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Sonic: [runs west, and after a couple of seconds, comes back, wet, with seaweeds on him, and a fish on his head] So, as I crashed into the cold dark water of the Pacific, I realized a few things. A; I have no idea where I'm going. B; saltwater stings. C; I shouldn't even be on this planet right now, but I am! Why? Because you shot me!
Tom: I know.
Sonic: YOU SHOT ME!
Tom: I heard you the first time, you don't have to... pile it on. Good grief.
Sonic: I'm wet, I'm cold, there's a fish on my head, and clearly, I'm not going to be able to do this on my own!
Tom: [looks at Sonic, the fish slowly sliding off his head] Alright, get in the truck.
Sonic: Really? [shakes the water and seaweed off of him, causing his fur to poof up] You're gonna help me?
Tom: I guess it is a little bit of my fault that all of this is happening to you.
Sonic: Not a little bit, entirely. It is entirely your fault.
Tom: Okay, it's entirely my fault. Are you coming?
Sonic: Yes. [shakes his body again, straightening his fur, goes back in Tom's truck] Road trip! Wahoo!
Tom: [sighs] What am I doing?
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