"You're like a vampire thrall?" He eyes him for a second. "Is that sexy? That sounds kinda hot."

Oh no wait he's mad again.

"What do you mean mashed potato war crime?! This shit is delicious. Excuse me for enjoying good fucking food just because you're homesick for o-positive smoothies." Yes, he is going to defend the honor of mashed potatoes right now. And he'd keep doing so if Max hadn't asked if Jacob is here causing the already sickly looking Pratt to go absolutely pale.

"He... no. He's not here. He better fucking never show up. I'd..." probably run away despite the insistence that he'd skin Jacob alive. Or more accurately stand there in silence and then follow him around, terrified. He might know a thing or two about thralls himself. "No, this was a hierarchy thing, with one of the pirates."

He looks down at his hand, rubbing the bandage with his opposite thumb.