Not once in his holier-than-thou life. It'd be something bullshit and flowery and knight-in-shining-armour-ish and neither of you would tolerate that shit for a second.

[ Or maybe they would. Now he actually says that it's hard not to be tempted to try it sometime. Except that he's awful with this stuff and wouldn't get three words in without fucking it up by swearing instead of expressing a feeling. ]

I'm not Leon Belmont. Never fucking will be. Wouldn't be even if I were a pale babyfaced frenchman with no fucking concept of pragmatism. And you're not your father. And if Sara cooked like Sypha did, it'd be enough of a medical emergency to warrant a mention or two in your father's books.