"I don't know what you mean." Bilbo feigns vaguely his eyes dart around from you, to the door, back to the tea he's brewing out of nicety. "And if you mean what i think your implying, then i suggest you leave. Those days are long since done. I'm thinking of writing a book now actually..." he chuckles, balancing a tray of scones, biscuits, tea pot and chalices. He arranges them neatly on the table before siting himself. Clasping his hands and regarding you kindly, if not a tad exasperatedly.