*sweetly* You know I'd love to be of service, Esther, but my label advises against any heavy lifting. *holds up his hands, turning them this way and that*
*after a pause, during which he registers your resolute expression* Well then. Old racquetball injury? *sighs resignedly* Oh, all right. *gets up out of his chair and makes for the door, gesturing through it grandly* After you, Madam. *nods to Erestor* Sir.