He squeals and squeaks, and if you still aren’t paying attention, he comes over and yanks on your trouserleg, and pulls on your arm, and maybe, if you really piss him off, he’ll throw himself to the ground and try to get a lot of tears on your feet. He suffers. So fine, you want to have the dregs of what was in my glass? Be my guest.
Maybe next time, just trust me, huh? I do know what I’m doing.