The Wabbit and the Supplies Question

The Wabbit was hopping past his favourite building site when he heard a voice from somewhere slightly above him. "Hey Homey, how’s the ‘hood?" "Oh hello Skratch," said the Wabbit. "I have to tell you about our temporary relocation," "Rome?" asked Skratch. "Rome," said the Wabbit. "I know all about it. Let me break it down, man," said Skratch. "I've no beef with that," said the Wabbit, smiling to himself. "I got our camp supplies organised. I did a deal," grinned Skratch. "What kind of a deal?" said the Wabbit. "There's this place," said Skratch. "It's called the Pontiffs' place and it's all red inside, very glitzy." "They’ll supply us, foreally?" asked the Wabbit. "What’s the catch?" "We have to discourage unsavoury elements," said Skratch. "Now look Skratch," said the Wabbit, "they’ll be no bunkin' wild and no bangers!" "Hey man," said Skratch. "Don’t get it twisted. You know the ledge!" "Well I ain't no newjack," said the Wabbit. There was a pause and they both shuffled their paws. "So when do we roll up?" said Skratch. "A few weeks," said the Wabbit. "Scooby Doo! Not long!" said Skratch. "I gotta shop." "What for?" asked the Wabbit. "Cats pyjamas," purred Skratch.