The Hound: You're a talker. Listening to talkers makes me thirsty and hungry. Think I'll take two chickens.
Polliver: You don't seem to understand the situation.
The Hound: I understand that if any more words come pouring out your cunt mouth, I'm going to have to eat every fucking chicken in this room.
Polliver: You lived your life for the king. You're going to die for some chickens?
The Hound: Someone is.