It takes him quite a bit of time to climb back into his chair.

Please, don’t take it the wrong way. He’s not been a star before. It’s a lot harder than it looks. Almost as hard as remembering how to be a sheep again afterwards. Wheezing, crumbling bleats escape with every breath, just loud enough to be heard. For shame. He knows better. He knew better. He’s closing that gap as quick as he can, but there’s still fire in his chest, his hands won’t close right, the garden’s all out of focus, and he’ll show his quality by sitting upright again. It’s just taking a bit of time. Please don’t take it the wrong way.

“I…”

Children. Child. Got to be careful with child. They’re small, haven’t got as many years or heads. You don’t know what they don’t know, same as them. You’re both seeing a world. They can’t see yours. It’s not fair to ask them to. You need to be patient. You need to listen. You need to be better.

Darjeeling and coffee. Assassasins and maid. Alligators.

Dolce picks up the coffee.

[i]Get ridda it![/i]

Dolce stands up.

[i]liar cheater meanie big butt rude rude rude rude upset[/i]

“I…am going. To speak with. Your mother.”

Dolce walks past the table.