Uh.

[He rolls his head back, staring at the ceiling and trying to gear himself up for having a conversation like an actual human being. Talking sort-of through the pantry door helps. It's like easing into it.]

God, no. I don't cook. Or, you know, bake or, whatever.

I just-

You ever get tired of waiting for one of those weird dudes to make a meal just so you can drink something that doesn't taste like shit? I mean, I'm not really in the mood for wine but- you know.