It takes him a while to reply, mainly because he's shoving the donut into his face under cover of a sulk. Five minutes ago he had a whole plan laid out, and now he's been sidelined to his alternate plan B, when they lovebomb you, smile and tell them to choke on it before you walk out forever with a cool swish of your jacket.

He chews the donut as if it's done him a personal insult, then produces a wipe from his pocket to clean up, staring past the TV instead of looking at Crow. "What is there to say? I agreed to what you wanted. I'm sure it will be wonderful."

We're here for you, darling. Honestly. He summons an unconvincing inward facsimile of contempt, just for him.