Amy's not sure how it really matters if the ocean is different. "So, wait," she deadpans, "Are you saying that only one ocean likes you? Does that mean the other ocean is a bastard that has problems with you or something? Because, I mean, I can't fight a whole ocean, but I can throw some really smelly, awful things in there to sort of even the balance and make it think twice about being so disrespectful," she insists.

She ought to think Moana's mad for talking like this, but then, Amy had been called mad so many times that she's sensitive about stuff like that. "How did it feel before?" she prods, instead. "When it was a friend?"