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Mustafa: [taking Ego's order] Do you know what you'd like this evening, sir? Anton: Yes, I think I do. After reading a lot of overheated puffery about your new cook, you know what I'm craving? A little perspective. That's it. I'd like some fresh, clear, well-seasoned perspective. Can you suggest a good wine to go with that? Mustafa: With what, sir? Anton: Perspective. Fresh out, I take it? Mustafa: I am, uh... Anton: Very well. Since you're all out of perspective and no one else seems to have it in this bloody town, I'll make you a deal. You provide the food, I'll provide the perspective, which would go nicely with a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947. Mustafa: [Visibly confused] I'm afraid... your dinner selection? Anton: [stands up angrily] Tell your chef, Linguini, that I want whatever he dares to serve me. Tell him to hit me with his best shot. [Mustafa retreats as Anton Ego resumes his seat; nearby, Skinner is in disguise and comments to his waiter.] Skinner: I will have whatever he is having. [Scenes cut to Remy in a cage] Gusteau: So, we have given up. Remy: Why do you say that? Gusteau: We are in a cage, inside a car trunk awaiting a future in frozen food products. Remy: No, I’m the one in a cage. I’ve given up. You... are free. Gusteau: I am only as free as you imagine me to be. As you are. Remy: Oh, please. I’m sick of pretending. I pretend to be a rat for my father, I pretend to be a human for Linguini. I pretend you exist so I have someone to talk to! You only tell me stuff I already know! I know who I am! Why do I need you to tell me? Why do I need to pretend?! [Gusteau chuckles and fades away.] Gusteau: But you don’t, Remy. You never did.

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