The tie was getting in his way. Most people probably would have removed it or tossed it over his shoulder. Elias instead set the knife down, washed his hands (just in case), and then buttoned his black suit jacket instead. One more hand-washing, and then he was back to cleaning up the cuts of meat. Grilled, the kid said. A good choice. He nodded his approval.
"Preparation is not cooking," Elias explained. There was no condescending tone, no anger, nothing but strict rationale in his tone. "It isn't difficult or complex work. It is time consuming. It is repetitive. You will earn the check I write you at the end of the week, certainly. But the work will not be too difficult for you."
He turned the oven on BROIL and squatted down to retrieve the grill pan from the cabinet under the stove. But Dov's question kept him there for a long moment more once he put his hands on the right sheets of metal. Why are you doing this, Elias?
It was an astute question. Elias finally stood again, then set the grill pan on the counter and crossed his arms across his chest -- much in the same manner Dov himself stood. It was a natural pose for him, one he employed with frequency, and wholly unintentionally a copy of his guest's own stance. The man frowned at the floor, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he considered how to answer. And at last, when the words settled into his head, he carefully spoke them. Slowly. Distinctly. With great intent and gravity. He would not fail to make his meaning plain.
"There are things that are inconvenient and yet right to do," he said. "It is rare when anyone will do them. Often, men lament human suffering but spend no time attempting to right it. It is."
He stopped again, eyes narrowing. "Reprehensible."