"My boy, my boy." The Boss gives one of Ambrose's shoulders a comforting squeeze. "Who said that you cannot go home? I fully expect you to do so." He lifts Ambrose's chin gently to look at the awful burn mark on his cheek. "Just not like this. You come from the woods, don't you? These burns will surely get infected." He began to walk down the hallway, speaking as he went. "You know, health is very important to us old folks. It should be just as important to you. Tell you what - I'll make you a cup of tea, fix up those nasty burns and then put you to bed. How about we discuss taking you home in the morning?" He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Or do young people like hot chocolate these days? My great-granddaughter tells me I always get it wrong."