"Poor Yorick..." Crichton says and then tilts his head a little like 'wait?' But he lets the moment pass because there's more delicious food in front of him.

His reaction to the barbecue flavor is, somehow, even more extreme than the first time. Now that tastes like home.

"Hey now, I'm not gonna be a dick to them about that. Hell, I lost count of how many times I've died now. As long as it's not going to be once a day I think I can handle it. Thrice in one month is my all-time record."