He took a seat with his wine and waited for Gunner to bring him a plate. In the mean time he took a drink, watching his assistant as he cooked. Yes, he was beginning to realize was a sad, sad man he truly was.
The doctor sat up as his dinner was placed in front of him, resting the glass on the table out of the way. "Looks good. Smells good." He was sure it would taste good too. Gunner knew how to make spaghetti by now.