Crichton: Ridiculous. A perfectly ridiculous custom.
Twiki: I didn't ask your opinion.
Crichton: That was your second mistake. Your first mistake was thinking that a handful of decaying vegetable matter would make a suitable gift for a malfunctioning human.
Twiki: (Stops walking) Oh, you just don't understand at all! It's an old Earth tradition. Humans always give flowers to someone who is sick. Buck will love them.
Crichton: Preposterous! What are they good for? They simply wither and die.
Twiki: If you'd just shut up for a minute, you might learn something. Now, if you were sick -
Crichton: (Raises his neck to full height and looks down at Twiki.) Hmm. Me, sick? Impossible. I am a superior being. Good day. (Turns and leaves)
Twiki: Superior being? The only thing superior about him is his mouth!