"Why the hell not?" he fires back. "You think I'm that precise?" Getting the distinct impression he's being manipulated, or she's at least feigning helplessness to make him try it. Like she's a kindergarten teacher and he's refusing to fingerpaint.

None of this actually stops him from doing as she says. He just huffs, pulls the pot closer, and-- he's not hesitating, okay, he's just looking at it and trying to figure out what she's asking of him. The little branches along the trunk? Fine.

With large, actually quite precise hands, he starts cutting away at the little branches. Don't come crying to him when it dies.