Richard enjoyed the meal while his companion remained silent and sullen. Why should he allow someone else's bad mood to impact the flavor of the food? There wasn't one good reason that came to mind to allow for such to happen. Thus, Richard chose food over smoothing over a tepid at best relationship. The Italian would get over himself eventually.
Gustavo didn't have anyone to blame but himself. Ask for, agree later. Richard learned that rule a long time ago. One that would stick with him forever.
"Enjoy the meal. Your sour expression is going to make the wine taste bitter." The poor attempt at a joke didn't garner him so much as a lip twitch from the Italian.
"How can I enjoy my meal after what you just asked of me? I might as well have agreed to sell my soul to a devil by coming here." That wasn't Richard's problem.
