Wilke had no idea how that made him feel. He'd spent two months of this walking on eggshells with Daphne and the prick was...what? Waiting for an engraved invitation? If he thought there was a way he could talk to the dick without using his face as a punching bag, he'd be seeking the guy out to ask what, exactly, his fucking deal was.

"Oh," he laughed, a little hollowly. "I'm sorry just doesn't seem like the right thing to say, or it doesn't feel right anyway. I guess I don't understand it. Why ask if he's not going to act on it or anything?"