[His shoulders slump sympathetically, and he retrieves an apron and the longest pair of nitrile gloves the kitchen has before he reaches out for a handshake.]
You won't, dear boy. You won't. It was my mistake. And nobody will take you away here. Your friends will look after you.
[Spam]
You won't, dear boy. You won't. It was my mistake. And nobody will take you away here. Your friends will look after you.