[ Fandaniel ignores it. Such softness is something the other three would welcome, but to him, it discomforts, unbalances. That is not who he is. He cannot have friends. ]

Yes. Those same roses grow from me every morning. I fear they have had to put up with one or two murder attempts this past week, so consider this a warning.

[ Boil rice, boil, as he stirs up a sauce. ]

I will likely wake up tomorrow and attempt to kill one of you yet again. Do be prepared.