I ask only that his grace fill my empty cup, fill my mortal soul with his divine marinara sauce, for I am a penitent man wronged, an honorable man falsely besmirched, and a faithful lover of too many a woman later to fall into accursed witchcraft, madness and debauchery.

I ask only for some tangible morsel of proof.

Some… tasty meal, for my impoverished stomach.