"I'm tryna figure out steak right now, cuz," Carmy says with an annoyed eye roll, though he does feel a little bad that he didn't make something special for Richie. The salad doesn't count.

On the other hand, he's not sure he could handle the familiar garlic and tomato smell of the family spaghetti on the back of his tongue when he's sucking his dick. He chews the side of his cheek, glances from under his lashes, stirs his fork through his salad without eating any.

"I uh, it's just practice, better you eat it than having to toss it," he explains, tines of his fork digging into the grapefruit to pulp it.