[Charlie wouldn't be much of a salesman if he couldn't recognize when a pitch didn't land. His hand drops from her shoulder, waving dismissively before his fingers flick the lid of the sunscreen bottle shut.

They can discuss the difference between water and someone's touch after she's tried the bath.]

That's fair, we never finished our discussion.

[He straightens, pulling his robe closed the way a man would a suit jacket.] You offered me... heavy artillery or petsitting. Not bad options, but I'm struggling to figure out a time or place for either of them.

But! [Charlie's head tilts to the side, enunciating with gesture.]

That's for me to figure out. Are either of those options okay with you? As in, I can choose and let you know when I need you?