[he frowns. He'd tend to agree with you, about the testosterone, if he wasn't included in it. He frowns too because he— why would he say anything more...

He leans on the counter, mirroring your posture.]

What he wants to drink. If he wants a snack. When does David Bowie look the best. And he wouldn't start with apologies to me again and again.

[he pushes himself back from the counter.] You satisfied?