There is beauty in impermanence. [ Look, he's read a lot of poetry. And has thoughts about transient things as someone who is effectively immortal. ​]

Let Saint have a crack at it and you might change your tune. Though he is getting better. [ He tilts up his fork. He's certainly not volunteering to try making something like this himself. He knows he's a completely indifferent cook and even less of a baker.

Really, the attempt at conversation is him playing along, but he's about out of patience. ]

I'm going to have two more bites of this excellent dessert, and then I'm taking you out of that chair.