[AH SHIT--] Uhhhhhh.... yes. That sounds totally fair. [--Yep, he definitely isn't going to say anything about any of this at all, for any reason whatsoever. Let some other sucker deal with Pratt's psychological bullshit; Sharky is officially in way over his head.

...Except, obviously he's not going to leave Pratt's cult manipulation fester for somebody else to solve. They wouldn't know where to begin, first off, and second... Well, shit. Sharky didn't manage to save Rook from Joseph. He really, really does not want to fuck up again.

So while they finish the trek to the buffet, Sharky is basically just vibing with low-key concern, trying super hard not to give Pratt a worried glance every fifteen seconds. He's good at letting his motormouth fill in the empty space, at least.]

They, uhhh, got all sorts of food and shit here, not just at the buffet. There's also, like, a cigar lounge? Which is hella classy. And free alcohol, but I think I already told you that and, uh... maybe we'll put a pin in getting well and truly fucked up until the whole thing doesn't seem completely fuckin' nuts. ...Or, uh, you adjust to how nuts it is. [Pratt's good at adapting, right? ...He probably shouldn't say that aloud.]