I went with the presumption that Miles Edgeworth was trying to thank me, even though it everything but seemed so (but that was what Edgeworth had told me: “I want to treat you to a dinner to show my gratitude” were his exact words). Sure, it was very nice of him to invite me to a dinner (even though Detective Gumshoe had treated all of us after the case had been closed), but the way he glared at me and said things that cleverly sounded very polite indeed, but made me wonder if they were in fact meant as insults, made it seem like having his head cut off would’ve been more enjoyable than having a dinner with me.

I thought it would’ve probably been better to turn down the offer. I had been feeling awfully blue ever since Maya left to finish her spirit medium training and I had thought that – and oh how silly it sounded now – spending some time with Edgeworth would maybe get my mind off of Maya and the DL-6 case that had been extremely taxing emotionally. I hadn’t expected a cavalcade of clever insults and yes, maybe it had been naïve to expect that maybe saving Edgeworth’s behind would’ve made him change his demeanour towards me.

The whole thing didn’t make much sense, because as far as I knew, no one had made Edgeworth have dinner with me and when he seemed like he would rather be back in defendant’s seat in courtroom hearing a guilty verdict, I couldn’t help but think that he had some ulterior motive. It was the only explanation.

My head was bursting with unvoiced questions and I felt like I was back in courtroom, trying to find contradictions in witnesses’ testimonies, while listening to Edgeworth’s pointless but polite small-talk and insults-disguised-as-gallantries. If there was an ulterior motive in Edgeworth’s invitation I would certainly find out about it. I went as far as prying deeper into one of his wry, nonchalant and seemingly pointless comments about von Karma’s arrest, just in case there was something there, something that would reveal the reason why …

Edgeworth went on with the conversation, but managed to remain oblivious to my true intentions until I was firing counter questions like an assault rifle. He fell silent mid-sentence and raised his eyebrow, looking aggravated.

“I had no idea you were one of those who take their work with them wherever they go, Wright,” he said, once again sounding polite but his voice had an undertone that clearly suggested that he was basically calling me a workaholic.

I snapped my mouth shut, realising that I had gone maybe a bit too far and that the restaurant wasn’t a courtroom. With a smile and a nervous chuckle I admitted that maybe I was. I wasn’t, in fact, but I would rather let Edgeworth believe that than let him know my true intentions.

“If there’s something you want to know, why don’t you ask me straight, rather than trying to pry it out with your weak cross-examination techniques.”

There it was: another insult. Besides if I really was terrible at what I did, Edgeworth would be sitting in death row in von Karma’s place right now. And still. The likelihood of Edgeworth asking me to a dinner out of pleasure was getting smaller all the time and my admittedly long fuse was slowly getting shorter while my curiosity was now almost unbearable. Edgeworth could’ve just said a simple thank you instead of carrying out this travesty of a friendly dinner. I decided to come clear with it.

“Why did you ask me out?” I said, staring straight at Edgeworth with my most intimidating you-better-tell-me-all-or-else look (which had never worked in court, but I wouldn’t ever admit it).

Edgeworth grunted and averted his gaze for a split second, looking at a waitress who was just passing our table at his left.

I couldn’t help a frown. He’s going to lie.

“I told you, Wright,” Edgeworth said, looking at me again, as nonchalant as ever. “I wanted to thank you.”

“You’re lying,” I replied, sounding more venomous than I had intended. Maybe I was more hurt than I let myself to believe. “You don’t want to thank me. You’ve been insulting me the whole evening, I hardly consider that a -”

Edgeworth cut me off: “I wanted to thank you. I’m afraid it’s not my forté.” He averted his gaze again, but this time he seemed somewhat uncomfortable and as far as I could tell, there were no more lies coming.

“I don’t think you’re even trying,” I said and stood up from the table, folding my napkin and dropping it on my plate. I hadn’t finished eating but my appetite was irrevocably gone for the evening. “I’m sorry if this makes me seem ungrateful, but hey, it’s not like I’m going to thank you for letting me save your skin. Call me out when you can say it and mean it.”

It felt good striding towards the restaurant exit past all the tables and even better picturing the confounded look on Edgeworth’s face. Had he really believed he was thanking me? It was kind of sad.

I never got outside, because someone grabbed my suit’s sleeve in the doorway. First I thought it was a waitress stopping me to make me pay my cheque and I panicked for a split second before turning around and facing Edgeworth, who was holding onto my sleeve tightly and looking something between infuriated and extremely ashamed. It sounded like he was holding something back when he said, under his breath: “I am making a complete ass out of myself, but please, hold on for a minute.”

“Why should I?”

“Wright, please,” Edgeworth replied, looking at me from under his brow and appearing as resolute as ever (and I had seen Edgeworth looking mighty resolute on many an occasion). He was also clearly embarrassed, but I couldn’t tell whether it was because of what he was asking me or because every pair of eyes in the restaurant had been turned to us, and the low chatter and sharp clinking of silverware against china had suddenly stopped. A waitress was standing a few feet away, observing the situation.

I sighed and nodded. Edgeworth then let go of my sleeve and turned to the waitress to pay our cheque. After that he led me out of the restaurant and hailed a cab to take us to a bar a few blocks away. I would’ve never gotten a cab just because of few blocks even if I was rich like Edgeworth, I mused to myself quite bitterly. If I had known being a prosecutor paid so much better than being a defence attorney, I surely would’ve thought over my career choices back in law school.

The bar we entered was below street level, a tiny lounge bathing in reddish lighting and cigarette smoke. Sleepy, atmospheric jazz was playing from the speakers. I was surprised: the bar was nothing like Edgeworth’s style, who, in my opinion, was more the type to prefer fancy hotels’ lounge bars and luxurious cafés. I on the other hand found myself liking the bar: its languid atmosphere, modest décor that reminded me of all photographs that I had seen of prohibition era speakeasies and, well, I had always liked jazz.

Edgeworth walked up to the counter, got himself a vodka martini and turned to me with an enquiring look. I stepped up to the counter and soon retreated to a small table in the corner with a beer, trailing behind Edgeworth.

“How do you know this place?” I asked him, sitting down opposite from him and taking another good look at our surroundings. “I never thought you’d -”

“The owner is an associate of mine,” Edgeworth cut me off, sipping his drink.

“Oh? Someone you managed to send behind the bars?”

Not even his venomous glare could wipe the grin from my face. “No,” he replied with a voice reserved for remarks of the “are you a complete idiot?” variety. “An old family friend. She has been running this place for twenty years now. I have a tab here, so order whatever you like.” He downed his vodka martini.

I looked at him, my eyes suddenly wide. “So you’re planning to really drink tonight?”

Edgeworth glanced at me and let out an amused low chuckle. A new vodka martini was brought to him and the waitress greeted him with a tiny nod of her head.

“You haven’t even seen me start.”

***

I woke up with the mother of all headaches: once I sat up, I immediately wanted to fall back down and curl up in a ball. It took me a while to realise where I was and even longer to take in the fact that I didn’t recognise the room. It was a bedroom, but it most certainly wasn’t mine. I, for one, didn’t have a king-sized bed, lavender curtains or a view over the city from my window. And my sheets definitely weren’t made of Egyptian cotton or something similarly posh and ridiculously expensive. With that came the realisation that I had no idea how I had ended up in the said bedroom in an apartment on what looked like a twenty-something floor according to the view. I squeezed my eyes back shut, frowning: I remembered nothing of last night.

Nothing except heavy drinking, soft jazz (there was a band at some point) and Miles Edgeworth.

I gazed around the room, but there was no one there. Other side of the enormous bed was made and apparently untouched. For the moment I had to go with the rather safe presumption that the apartment was Edgeworth’s. Then I noticed a very familiar dark red suit on a chair in a corner next to the wall-sized window. Yep, definitely Edgeworth’s bedroom.

I saw my own suit jacket on the floor next to the bed (I was still wearing the suit pants and my dress shirt, which was horribly crumpled and in serious need of ironing) and reached for it. I got out my wallet from the breast pocket and peeked in to see if I had any money left (money had a tendency to disappear when I was out drinking) and was extremely pleased to find out that I had managed to survive the evening with a meagre scratch: only few dollars were gone and I found a receipt of a cab fare, relieved to know where the money had gone. Apparently Edgeworth had indeed treated me the entire evening.

He and his fancy connections and a tab in a very nice jazz bar downtown …

While trying to recall the last night, I noticed a stain on the front of my pants and frowned. Dry-cleaning wasn’t exactly cheap and I didn’t have but one suit. I made a mental note not to go drinking in my working clothes.

The strange thing was that it didn’t actually look like a liquor stain, so I took a closer look at it and in a terrifying flash I realised what it was. I was sure I had gone as white as a sheet (but alas, didn’t have a mirror to make sure), because the stain was reminding me of my late teens and more importantly, it was giving me rather a disturbing mental image of something I kind of hoped was not true.

I got out of the bed (and the headache felt like someone pounded a sledgehammer against the top of my head) and staggered to the door, opening it and ending up in a dim hallway, cream-colored walls lined with black and white photographs of urban landscapes in simple frames. I heard a sizzling sound of something frying coming from ahead and I smelled food. Eggs and bacon.

The hallway ended in a spacious living room and to my left there was a small kitchen. Edgeworth was there, his back to me and the living room, holding a frying pan over a stove.

I coughed to draw the man’s attention.

Edgeworth didn’t even flinch. He glanced at me over his shoulder and said, completely expressionless but at least without contempt: “Good morning.”

I scratched my neck, finding the situation and Edgeworth’s nonchalant appearance as absurd as ever. “Um. Morning.”

“Take a seat.”

I entered the kitchen and sat on a chair beside the kitchen table, but stood back up immediately, feeling unable to sit still while one very important question was still burning a hole into my mind. Edgeworth noticed my uneasiness and I saw him furrowing his brow slightly – in confused manner? I couldn’t quite make anything out of it.

“Is something wrong?”

“Did anything happen last night?” I spat out.

“What do you mean?” Edgeworth’s reply came maybe a bit too quickly for me to believe that he didn’t know what I meant.

“You know what I mean.”

“Between you and I,” Edgewort said, nodding, while the corner of his mouth curled into an amused smile. “No. Nothing happened. Don’t you remember?”

“I don’t remember anything,” I replied, embarrassed having to admit it. I usually had a pretty good tolerance for alcohol, but then again, in my case drinking never meant more than a few beers, unless I wanted to be completely broke for the rest of the month. Having someone buy me one drink after another was sure to stretch my tolerance.

“What in the world makes you think that you and I -?”

“Nothing,” I hurried to explain, maybe a bit too fast. Damn. “Just a - just a thought.”

I thought about it and felt confused. What if something really had happened, like evidence strongly suggested? I recalled a moment several months ago when I had accidentally walked right into Edgeworth on my way out of the defendant lobby and the touch had felt much like electricity. I had jolted and Edgeworth had looked confused for a split second before reverting back to his usual self, calling me a clumsy fool. After that I had stared at Edgeworth’s back when he continued down the hallway and wondered why the man hated me with such an ardent resolve. We had been friends back when we were kids and even though we were now rivals of sorts, it was no reason why we couldn’t be friends anymore. Of course it would be more difficult to stand against someone I actually cared about in court, and it felt somehow absurd that a defence attorney and a prosecutor could be friends, but still.

I wouldn’t mind being friends with Edgeworth. He had definitely changed after the DL-6 incident, but it didn’t mean that the nine-year-old honest-to-god Miles Edgeworth who stood for justice and justice alone had been lost forever.

But this wasn’t about being friends.

I didn’t know what was it exactly about, but I remembered that I had once admitted to myself that Edgeworth was an attractive and intelligent man – even if he was a bit to the wicked side – and well, yes, I had thought about it. I hadn’t been much into relationships since… well, since that one time, and a broken heart didn’t exactly make me want to have a serious relationship without reserve and boy, had that one left some deep scars. After that I hadn’t found women very interesting. There had been exceptions, naturally, but dating someone? No way, I wasn’t ready for that. Then again, I had never found a man extremely interesting either. I had hurriedly stopped trying to label myself and I had been perfectly content with that, directing all my interest in work and trying to become good at what I did.

That was until Edgeworth had showed up. My childhood hero.

I knew that there was the possibility that something had happened, even discounting the evidence. There were my odd feelings for him and if I had been drunk off my ass and completely without reserve, there was always the chance. I hoped it wasn’t like that, but with a terrible dread in my gut I knew that it was possible.

I turned back to Edgeworth.

“Are you sure nothing happened?” I persisted. I wanted to hear everything in order to let the pieces fall back in their places (so that I could go dig myself a deep hole and burrow there and die in shame).

Edgeworth flinched, but remained calm. “I’m certain”, he said, sounding slightly aggravated. “We left the bar at sometime after three a.m. You passed out in the cab and I had to bring you here because I don’t know where you live. I carried you inside and put you in my bed. I slept on the couch.” With that said Edgeworth turned back to his eggs and bacon.

I thought about it for a second, feeling the ecstatic rush of adrenaline in my veins just like I did in court: I loved pointing out inconsistencies and contradictions. I now knew for sure that Edgeworth was lying and I was enthusiastic to get the cat out of the bag. Something had happened and I was going to find out what it was.

Edgeworth glanced at me again, still aggravated. “Why are you so -?”

He was cut off when I handed him the cab fare receipt that I had found crumpled in my wallet just a while ago. Edgeworth’s eyes widened slightly and then the corner of his mouth twitched a couple of times, curling into a brief tired smile. If I had blinked my eyes, I would’ve missed it. He handed the receipt back to me.

“Ah, yes. Sorry, you passed out right after we got out of the cab. You paid the fare. It doesn’t change my statement in the slightest. My memory of last night is not entirely solid either.”

“Then why would you undress in your bedroom and then come sleep on the couch?” I asked, glancing towards the living room and a huge, comfy-looking couch there. A blanket was spread messily over the couch, indicating that someone had indeed slept there. Nice try for a cover-up, I thought, but still a complete failure. Hah.

Edgeworth was silent for a while and then he grunted amusedly, relaxing (only now I noticed how his shoulders had been wired) and apparently giving up. “All right, I was careless,” he said. “You are a workaholic, Wright.”

“Please tell me the truth,” I said, not amused in the least. “Why would you lie if nothing really happened?”

“It’s not that easy,” Edgeworth replied, suddenly looking uncomfortable and turning back to frying his breakfast in order to escape my demanding gaze. “Are you sure you want to hear?”

“I have a hunch. It could be far worse,” I said, urging cheerfulness in my voice. What am I saying? I still didn’t know what to say or do if my hunch was right and Edgeworth would come out and outright say it.

Edgeworth was silent for a long time, apparently thinking of how to deliver his message. His breakfast was ready, so he got out a plate, placed the eggs and bacon on it and handed it to me. I took the plate, and sat down by the table in a daze, surprised by the fact that he had been making breakfast for me. Edgeworth then proceeded to fry another serving for himself.

“The stain on your pants,” he said, not turning away from the stove. “That’s how you know, right?”

“That, among other things.”

Edgeworth furrowed his brow briefly. “I don’t know what is this ‘something’ you’re after, but the thing is, you didn’t pass out last night.”

I glanced at Edgeworth impatiently, mentally trying to urge him to continue and tell me something I didn’t already know. He was still not looking at me, entirely occupied with the breakfast.

“In fact, I gave you a blowjob in the cab.”

There it was. The truth I had chased after. The kitchen was silent. I, my eyes as wide as saucers and staring, a slice of bacon hanging from my fork in midair and Edgeworth, the epitome of calm, flipping over the sizzling eggs on his frying pan and neither of us saying a word.

Edgeworth continued after a while, now disgruntled for a reason I couldn’t comprehend. “After that you came over, we slept in my bed. Nothing apart from that happened.”

“In a cab?” I managed.

Edgeworth finally looked at me, looking rather amused. “Yes, in a cab.”

“And there was a driver?”

He only raised his eyebrow and didn’t bother to answer such an idiotic question.

I scowled at that, my shoulders slumping. I raised a hand to rub my forehead and made a mental note never to use a cab again (not that I used them often: I preferred walking to work). I found it funny how the act itself hadn’t shocked me nearly as much as the place where it occurred had. At least I had speculated as much, but I could’ve never imagined it had happened in a public place. We might’ve gotten arrested for that!

I scratched my neck. “Um. Why?”

“What why?” Edgeworth queried, still sounding aggravated. I was disturbed by the way he clearly wasn’t all right with what had happened. He was probably regretting it, which, after all, made painfully much sense. He had been trying to hide it, after all, going as far as to make his side of the bed and spread the blanket on the couch. Suddenly I wanted to be elsewhere: anywhere else but in Miles Edgeworth’s kitchen eating breakfast he had just made for me.

At least he was trying to act nonchalant and civil.

“Why did you do it?”

Edgeworth glanced at me over his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“Did I – did I make you do it?”

He once again raised his eyebrow, looking slightly surprised. “No,” he said inconclusively, sounding like he was about to continue. He didn’t, averting his gaze extremely fast and once again going back to frying his breakfast. Then I heard him mutter something, but it was muffled by the sizzling sound of the eggs and bacon and thus utterly incomprehensible.

“Sorry? Didn’t catch that.”

“I said,” Edgeworth started and swallowed hard, “I wanted to do it. You objected, apparently because we were in a cab and you were tired and wanted to go home.”

My eyes flew wide. “W-why -?”

“You don’t remember anything, do you?” Edgeworth said, now exasperated. He got out another plate and placed his own breakfast on it, turning off the stove and coming to sit opposite from me.

“I’m sorry, I don’t. That’s why I wanted you to tell me.”

Edgeworth sighed and rubbed his temples. “I think it’s better that way.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

He looked surprised.

“I mean, I would really like to know.”

He stared at me for a second and then his surprise turned into contempt, the usual sullen look suddenly back on his face. “Oh, now I get it. You want to know so you can make fun of me, is that it?”

“What?” I uttered, surprised by the absurd accusation. “No! What in the world makes you think I would do that?”

“Don’t play dumb, Wright,” Edgeworth spat out. “I know you’ve never liked me.”

I could do nothing but stare at the man. “What the hell, Edgeworth?”

The accusation was preposterous and had absolutely no base whatsoever. Had Edgeworth forgotten that we had been friends back in fourth grade? I had looked up to him, enough to try to make contact with him once I had heard that he had made a prosecutor. Hell, I had become a defence attorney because of Edgeworth! I was the one who had wanted to represent him when he was accused of murder! What in the world made him think that I would do that out of hatred? So I could just pretend to defend his case in court with an intention to lose because I didn’t like him?

We were rivals because of our occupation, but after everything that had happened during the last few months, it was simply insane to imply that I didn’t like Edgeworth.

I had thought Edgeworth didn’t like me. After all, he had blatantly ignored all of my attempts to make contact with him; he had regarded me with nothing but contempt until the last day of Will Powers’ trial and he hadn’t accepted my offer to defend him until the very last minute (and even then I suspected that Detective Gumshoe’s powers of persuasion were the main reason Edgeworth had accepted at all).

Not even mentioning the fact that I had awakened the single most horrifying memory in his life or last night’s lousy excuse for a thankful dinner offer. All signs pointed to one direction: Miles Edgeworth hated me and not the other way around.

Then again, last night Miles Edgeworth had given me a blowjob out of his free will.

I was confused.

Apparently, so was he.

We sat in an awkward silence for what felt like hours in my opinion. Edgeworth was just poking his breakfast around with his fork and I had given up on eating as well, both of my hands resting on the table.

“What now?”

Edgeworth glanced cautiously at me and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Do you…” I began but stopped to think through what I really wanted to say. Except that I didn’t really want to say it, but at least I would definitely find out what Edgeworth thought about the state of affairs. “Do you want to forget it? We can pretend nothing ever happened.”

Edgeworth had a counter-question ready. “Do you want to forget it?”

I managed a smile. “I don’t remember it in the first place.”

“Right,” Edgeworth said, sounding venomous and falling silent. I didn’t see danger coming until Edgeworth, suddenly completely out of sorts, jumped up from his chair and pointed his finger at me, fuming.

The man really loved pointing fingers.

“Do you really think it was so terrible?!”

I stared. “Um,” I said, unable to come up with anything more intellectual than that. I kind of wanted to remind Edgeworth that I didn’t remember and thus was ineligible to say anything about last night or how it had been.

I kind of hoped I could say that it had been amazing, but of course it didn’t even cross my mind to voice my thoughts.

“For a second back then I thought you had enjoyed it! And the way you wouldn’t let me go once we got here – god, Wright! You made me make such a fool out of myself!”

“I made you a – wait a second!” I gasped. “I wouldn’t let you go? What do you mean?”

“I told you we slept in my bed.”

I frowned.

“There! That look! Do you really hate me that much?”

Finally I snapped. The whole incident was already pretty high on my absurdity scale, but this one had blown the roof. The whole thing made no sense and now the only thing I could do was to yell at Edgeworth.

And wow, I had completely forgotten about my hangover.

I shot up from the chair, slamming my hands against the table. “What in the world makes you think I hate you?! Would I bother to save your damned life if I hated you?! Did it seem last night like I hated you? Did I turn you down -?!”

“But I try to thank you and you just proceed to turning your back to me! You act like last night was the worst thing that’s ever happened to you -!”

“That’s because I don’t remember! You’re just so selfish you don’t even see that I -!”

“See what, Wright? No, I don’t see -!”

Edgeworth never got to finish his sentence, because I was already reaching over the table to grab the collar of his shirt and draw him in for a rather fierce kiss over our discarded and already cold breakfast. The plates clinked loudly as the table shook hard due to Edgeworth nearly losing his balance. He never returned the kiss and as I drew away after a few seconds, I clearly saw the reason why: he was positively dumbstruck.

“See that,” I said, straightening up and feeling pretty proud of myself.

“You -” Edgeworth managed and then pulled a hand over his mouth, apparently instinctively.

“I don’t hate the thought of it,” I said awkwardly and scratched my neck. “I hope I would remember what happened last night and trust me, I would’ve never gone along with it if I wouldn’t have wanted it.”

“But you were drunk.”

“So were you. And you never went denying what happened - after I pressed you about it, of course. Why would I try to deny it?”

Edgeworth grunted, finally reverting to his usual calm and collected self. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I was hoping you’d have more self-restraint. This is not good.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s not.”

Edgeworth stared out of the window for a moment. It was a really beautiful day outside: rather cold, but amazingly sunny. If Maya were still here we’d definitely go for a picnic in the nearby park, which meant we’d just buy some burgers from the usual joint and eat them out in the park, but it was as good a picnic as any. We’d freeze our fingers off. Maya would feed half of a bun to pigeons and then they would come flocking and Maya would shove the rest of her hamburger at me and run away laughing delightedly and I’d be in the middle of a hungry flock of birds, just like the Hitchcock film …

Edgeworth’s voice shook me from my thoughts: “We better keep it a secret.”

“Goes without saying,” I nodded.

Another silence.

“Let’s go for a picnic.”

“Excuse me?” replied Edgeworth, clearly not believing what I had just said.

“You heard me,” I said, my face splitting in a wide grin. “A picnic. You and me. We still haven’t eaten any breakfast and I crave for coffee.”

Edgeworth stared at me for a while (for a second I was sure he’d turn the offer down and drive me out of his apartment), but then his lips curled into the tiniest of smiles. “You’re unbelievable, Wright.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Come on,” I took him by his wrist and dragged him out of the kitchen. He followed compliantly enough, but halfway through the living room he forced me to stop, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin against my shoulder.

Oh, wow.

“You do know it’s freezing outside?”

Suddenly the picnic felt like a bad idea. “What are you getting at?” I almost didn’t dare to ask, afraid how straight-forward Edgeworth might turn out to be now as the cat was out of the bag. Yeah, now I was thinking about certainly staying inside, warm…

“You aren’t wearing anything particularly warm, Wright. I might have to supply you with a coat.”

I had to chuckle.

“Oh, right, sure, I’m fine with anything,” I said. “Thanks.”

That said Edgeworth disappeared into the hallway and came back with a long black winter coat, handing it to me. I pulled it on and felt relieved when it covered the stain on my pants. It was minuscule and no one would ever notice it if they weren’t staring at my crotch from close distance, but only its existence was enough to make me nervous about it. Edgeworth was pulling on his own coat, peering at me curiously.

“So how do we execute this ‘picnic’ of yours?”

“You’ll see,” I replied with a grin, and saw Edgeworth grunt in disdain. He started leading me to the front door, since I didn’t know how to navigate his apartment. He was just opening the door when I placed a hand on his arm, effectively stopping him on his tracks. He turned to me, looking characteristically miffed.

“Just one thing before we go, this is really important,” I said, feigning seriousness and slightly tightening my hold of his arm. For a second he looked apprehensive, not quite sure if he was going to like it, whatever it was that I was about to tell him.

“You have got to learn to say thank you.”