SIMBA: Zira.
ZIRA: Simba. Nala.
NALA: Zira.
TIMON: Timon, Pumbaa. Great! Now that we all know each other, Get out of our pride lands!
ZIRA: Your pride lands? These lands belong to Scar.
SIMBA: I banished you from the pride lands. Now, you and your young cub, get out!
ZIRA: Oh, haven't you met my son, Kovu? He was hand-chosen by Scar to follow in his paw prints, and become king.
TIMON: That's not a king. That's a fuzzy maraca.
ZIRA: Kovu was the last born before you exiled us to the outlands, where we have little food, less water.
SIMBA: You know the penalty for returning to the pride lands.
ZIRA: But the child does not! However, if you need your pound of flesh, here.
SIMBA: Take him and get out. We're finished here.
KIARA: Oh!
ZIRA: Oh, no, Simba. We have barely begun.
KIARA: Bye.
KOVU: Bye.
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