Rushed, because an angry Epps spent a number of minutes chasing the guffawing Andronov several times around the NEST compound’s offices. “What is the matter with you, my friend?” Panting hard, the scientist sought shelter behind a long, wide desk. “I’m gonna kill you, man!” Facing him, Epps finally paused and straightened. “Maybe later, when I can catch my breath. Cuí! I’m gonna cuí your …!” “Did you not like the taste of guinea pig? The ‘rabbit of the Andes,’ it is called. A staple food of the Incas and is still so today.” He was grinning hugely. “The little hairs, are they not so nice and crunchy when they have been burned?” “Shoulda told me I’d be eatin’ some kinda big rat.” Epps saw Morales approaching. “Kill you later. Gotta resolve us a possible Decepticon sighting today.” Despite the tech sergeant’s chronological disclaimer, Petr continued to maintain some distance between them as Morales offered greetings. By the time they had left Cuzco behind and found themselves heading in the direction of the suspicious signal, memories of Sergeant Epps’s gustatory calamity had been put aside as he came to see the humor in it.
