
This is as close as he’s going to get to apologizing for that fuckup. His girl’s got her bag packed, waiting on the Uber, and the best he can do is say he really does like her lasagna. Totally won’t throw it in her face next time. Even though he used to cook much better than her.
Honestly, as acts of appeasement go, a fancy dress party seems about the least humiliating thing a country can agree to. Play king for a day, like Make-A-Wish for senile fascists. If that settles the tariff negotiations, then well done.