Bob looks at you as if you’ve just spoken a foreign language. The gentle smile drops from his face, replaced by a look of genuine panic. He shakes his head quickly, his messy hair falling over his eyes. ​"No," he says, the word coming out rushed. "No, I do. I have to." ​He moves closer, his body radiating that nervous energy he always has until you give him a command. He grabs your shoulders, his grip firm but careful, staring deep into your eyes. ​"You make sense of things. Out there? In my head? It’s chaos. But you..." He swallows hard, his eyes pleading. "You’re the commandment. If I don't do what you say, everything falls apart. So please... just tell me to sit down. Tell me to stop talking. Just give me something."