You are not really asking for my opinion, are you?
You want words of comfort. For me to stroke your ego gently, like a cat’s coat. For me to flatter you, pump up your outer skin, until you are bloated like a fat peacock.
I decline, Sir.
Such tender lies are beyond me. For you do not need it. You only seek to fill yourself with an importance that, though you may well deserve, is unnecessary and superficial.
I decline, Sir. Sue me.