[Round, overlarge eyes narrow to slits in his pale face. He lowers his ice pack so he can cross his arms over his bony, concave chest. His tone is cold and disdainful.]

It was impossible not to overhear that you want to help. At a certain point, the best way to do that is to simply stay out of the way.

[A bit of the ice in the pack crunches where the pad of his thumb kneads compulsively into it.]

I've been counting your futile attempts, you know. Do you want to bet that I can divine your future?