Well, do you want me to sit, or do you want assistance? You’re changing orders on me before I’ve had a cup of coffee and a cigar. Or would you rather insult me in my own home while you… make bread?

[He furrows his brow as he watches him take the bread out with a cloth. He’s at war with himself. He doesn’t want to punish this sort of action. What… if it was genuine. He’s left in freefall. He shakes his head. He chooses to have hope.]

…What’s left to do?