[ With a huff, Yusuke sits when he sits, his posture straight, his arms crossed in front of him. ]

You think I might like to hit you? That is a particular trauma I would rather not revisit.

[ He stares, and reaches for his shake, just to have something to occupy his hands. There's more nausea than there is hunger, like this is about to go horribly south again. He should have stayed in bed. ]

I don't know. You expect me to guess what is on your mind instead of telling me. I can't, I have never known how you think.