“Let’s suppose for a moment,” I say, turning the sign to bring on the meat parade. “That I say no. Because, you know, I’m going to say no. What then?”

I expect a hard sell of some sort. A threat, and savage promise. Even just a growl in the back of his throat. But there’s nothing. He just leans forward and attends to the waiters bringing the meat, piling his plate back up.

“If you say no, then you say no,” he says. “I have no intention of ...