Well, figure your own shit out, then. [ Now he really doesn't know what Charlie wants. At all. ] I don't know your hot buttons, and obviously, I hit one. And you don't know mine. Neither of us are psychic.

I said sorry, and I am, and I left it alone 'cause you obviously wanted that. But here you are. You keep saying, I don't wanna think you're a tool, a shitty person, like you expect something else from me. What do you WANT?