Your dad took you camping? Poor bastard. 

[ The shots hit the table, and he slides one to Quentin, plucks the other in his hand. ] Come on, put it up. [ And when he sees Quentin raise it, he'll tip his back, feel the burn of the paint thinner they have here. With it down, he gestures toward Nikita for a beer too. ]

That's what you used to do then? Celebrate your birthday by getting dragged into the woods. Everyday's a party here.