Even in his feasting-induced stupor, that was a voice Terrorsaur would always recognize. He looked up just as he finished swallowing a large lump of mashed potato.

"Plenty," he quipped in return. "And Waspinator can do the same so long as he stays out of my way."

As emphasis, he plucked what he was originally reaching for from the table: the last piece of ham. (Not that it wouldn't be replaced or that there wasn't more ham elsewhere...but he felt accomplished having grabbed that last piece regardless.)