“We need you, Duck. Only you. Only you can do this.” “Dude, I mean, I want to help, but . . .” “You get the next fish I catch,” Quinn said. “Not if I’m buried alive,” Duck argued. “Fried. Fried up so tender and flavorful.” “You can’t buy me with food,” Duck huffed. “I . . . I want a swimming pool, too.”
