“Please,” Leonardo begs, tears and snot dripping down his usually pretty face. “Please, one more chance. I can still act, please.”

He’s sobbing, clutching onto the bottom of your shirt. You’re his manager, you have to get him another role. This is all he knows. The reason he was built was to act, be entertaining for humans. He’s not malfunctioning. Another broken sob escapes him. If he can’t act, what use is he?