Falcon: Other then the required sundry of clothing and the like you might need to prepare yourself for the wilds of metal fans getting worked into a frenzy for three straight days. Precautions should be taken. I suggest you buy a can of mace. Maybe a road flare for when the weather turns on us and we're having to find our way through the dust. I'm seriously thinking we need walkie-talkies.
Cleaver: But I'm a large man, Jaime. What do I need mace for?
Falcon: Because there are larger men in the world. Also, mace might help with crowd control. I mean if the dead were ever going to rise from their graves, it would be while we're in a tent in the middle of Oklahoma.
Cleaver: I wasn't worried before. I think I am now.
Falcon: Let's be honest, this whole thing is a joke that massively backfired on us.
Cleaver: I believe this was your idea, and thus I hold you as my financial guarantor for the weekend.
Falcon: Furthermore, we're about to spend three days in the heat among crowds and I don't wear shorts. I might have a heat stroke by Saturday morning.
Cleaver: Why ... why don't you wear shorts?
Falcon: I wear them when playing basketball, but only then. Anyway, back to what we're taking with us.
Cleaver: No, I'm pushing forward with this. Do you have terrifying knees? A shinbone that juts out?
Falcon: I don't wear shorts because I mostly wear boots, and men cannot pull that look off.
Cleaver: Have you considered flip-flops? They're the choice of the man who's in touch with his sensitive side.
Falcon: I'm pretty sure not even Jennifer Lawrence could get me to wear flip-flops.
Cleaver: There's going to be some serious flip-flop action this weekend, Jaime. You're going to be intimately familiar with my toes. That's exactly as terrifying as it sounds.