You'd think that a 16 year old sk8ter (used intentionally to further describe his appearance) punk would be a little leery of a 37 year old, tattoo laden, scar faced bellowing lunatic but he seems utterly oblivious that I want to kill him. Easy rule: Take a basket out, drop a new basket. Instead, he lifts one basket, "sauces" an order of wings, places said wing in a container and if he's realy on the top of his game he might think about dropping the next basket of wings.
So while the next batch of wings should be half done at this point, he's just starting to cook them.