"Because - I got a person for my birthday," he says, frustrated. "And I don't know what to do with you. I don't want to do anything with you except leave you alone to do what you want, but I can't free you because you don't belong to me, on paper you're still Father's - he's like that with everything, Mother doesn't even own her own maid. And I don't know you, I don't know what you'd be doing if you weren't doing this, I don't know if you like it here, I don't really expect to find out, but I'm not going to send you to get my lunch when I'm perfectly capable of getting it myself and anytime I ever ask you to do something I can't know if you want to do it or if you just feel like you have to because you're my birthday present. So I'm just - going - to - not."

He covers his face with his hands and adds, somewhat muffled, "Sorry about the ranting."