It seems as if my desk companion's tolerance for me wanes with each passing day. Whenever I attempt to engage him in conversation, he treats me as if I were a mere whisper in the wind—unheard, unnoticed. Perplexed, I ponder my possible transgressions: perhaps it's my frequent borrowings or the endless queries that consume his precious moments, sapping the last threads of his patience. To show my gratitude and seek his pardon, I am contemplating bestowing a gift upon him. Do you deem such an act an adequate olive branch?