It’s not your fault I don’t have oven mitts, Connor.

[If Hank had been using the oven at all these past few months, he would’ve had some already. So clearly the blame lies there, he thinks.]

I could’ve got them. But thanks, Connor. [A genuine thank you, albeit meshed with irritation.] Don’t want you hurting yourself just to feed me.

And yeah, yeah — I know. Can deal with more heat than I can. But still.