Chance:
Well, come on. Pay up.
Ravel:
Pay what?
Chance:
What do you mean, "Pay what"? Something is manufacturing breathable air down there. That, mate, is terraforming.
Ravel:
No, no. The bet was why we came here. If you said that dead old man wanted to talk to Martians, then I'd pay.
Chance:
Oh, come on. A hundred credits. Put it towards a lap dance with Miss Vickers.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:42
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