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He sighs. "Look, I would love to, but unfortunately the mansion doesn't stock any source material any of the residents here are from. You'll just -- you'll have to take my word for it?" Please?

Dionysus rubs his face in his hands for a moment before, "'Consort! What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort!' And then Benvolio said, 'We talk here in the public haunt of men. Either withdraw unto some private place, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us.' To which you replied, 'Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I,' and then Romeo entered, and I can keep going on, if you'd like, right up until the point when you no doubt found yourself here, but I don't think that would do either of us any favors. Is this enough for you, kid?"

A glass of wine appears in his hand, accompanied by the usual vines, and he takes a sip. This is really not how he wanted his afternoon to go.