Rex is perfectly happy to simply let Archie loose among the people who've showed up to dinner, knowing full well that he's sociable to make conversation out of nothing - even the more dour people here. When Archie escapes from the table to stroll back towards the kitchen, whatever it is he's going to the kitchen for, he'll find Rex by the bowl of poffins, picking one up and squinting at it assessingly.

Archie made these? How? He squeezes the one in his hand a little, as though that will carry some form of answer for him. It doesn't. It's just soft and, it must be said, the polar opposite of what his attempt had turned out to be.

He's never going to understand how people can do this.