I can imagine. 220, please. [He feels a twinge of guilt for not being there.] I wanted to help, but--Armada had other plans.

[Does he sound bitter to you? He might be a little teeny bit bitter. He's the camp's prettiest lawn ornament, or something.] All the Blues had to watch over our haul, though. [His tone switches to smug. Poor bastards.] And then, well--this mission happened.

[One thing after the other. He begins mixing pancake mix, using separate sets of bowls and separate dishware. He takes his friends' health seriously.]