What the fuck do I want you to do? I want you to fucking speak to me when you step into the fucking room. Haven't seen you all fucking day.

[He could have keeled over for all Larry knew. Maybe not have even been home. Except he knew that for a fact without looking in, his shoes were by the door. Uh huh. He notices those things. Also someone else was drinking the coffee. It's all evidence without hide nor hair of one Freddy Newendyke.

The short answer beneath the blustering is that he's not asking for an apology or nothing, just...contact. They haven't shared words, nothing]