[she's laughing, and everything is fine, all the pleading and the careful alliteration is like how things used to be, it's all better for that one moment when she's laughing.]

Yeah, because it's easy and kinda hard to mess it up too bad. But whose hands? Mine, yours? The hands of an Italian chef that's gonna manifest in your kitchen and yell at me for speaking the truth that it all tastes the same?