[...How is it that everywhere he goes he winds up confronted with a spiky-haired dumbass with an apparent heart of gold. Lord have mercy, he's talking to a turtle. This is one step away from interrogating a parrot.

He grits his teeth, pushing himself up out of the sand and rubbing at his eyes with his...waterlogged, sandy sleeve, which is not the best of ideas he's ever entertained, and so he winds up abandoning it as quickly as he'd attempted it.]

I do not make it a point of familiarizing myself with how turtles —

[Wait.]

...Turtles are attached to their shells. It's impossible for them to come off.

[THANKS HE HATES IT ALREADY.]