[Well, after being thoroughly scourged by mommy dearest, he's fucking certainly weary and surly and he's just gonna behave himself today and knock it off with shenanigans and just


plop himself in front of the fire to tend to it.


Aggressively.


With questionably combustible objects.


Like those candles. Or the throw pillow with a panther on it or maybe that boat model, and a few books, and maybe that anon's dead body or the tiny toy horse in his icon or maybe one of those rabbit scupltur--

actually, no, he'll just put that in his lap and stroke it and ignore the acrid smoke he's making]