"Give up haircutting, give up baking, give up...give up the thing you love most outside of people," I get out. "You are what I love most in this world," I say, leveling down on him and crossing the room to try and forcibly unfold his arms, to try and get him to see sense. "I just...Jesus, Joe, I love it out there," I plead, getting closer and trying to get his eye contact. "But I don't want to leave you. I don't. I don't want to ever leave you, Joe. Not ever. Not today or tomorrow or five or ten or fifty years from now! Do you know what that means?"