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Ruffalo spits the chewy bite of quinoa into his napkin and daintily places it on his plate. "I thought you said this was organic," he says.
His sad, tired eyes wander the bistro. They focus on you for a moment and he frowns deeply. "Please have a little compassion."
He looks down at his plate, "Can I trust this rabe? You're sure it's non-GMO?" He presses his temples. "It's just all so difficult."
