The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself in a state of PROFOUND JUDICIAL CONFUSION. You submitted an offer forty-five thousand dollars below asking in a six-buyer feeding frenzy, and The Universe simply handed you the keys like a tired Costco sample lady at closing time. This is not negotiation, this is WITCHCRAFT, and Reginald does not use that term lightly because I once accused a staging company of hexing a breakfast nook. The listing agent LAUGHED at you, counsel, actually laughed, and yet here we are, forty thousand dollars below asking with your clients clutching their pearls over eight thousand dollars like they found a hair in their inspection report. I myself once lowballed a Panera bread bowl by asking for extra soup and was escorted out by a teenager named Marcus, so I understand the audacity required here, but YOUR audacity was REWARDED which frankly destabilizes everything The Court holds dear. The sellers accepted three hundred eighty-five thousand dollars because the real estate gods decided to take Tuesday off and let chaos reign supreme. Your clients did not overpay, they committed THEFT BY TIMING, and if they ask you one more question about value you are hereby authorized to send them a notarized copy of this ruling and a fruit basket. The Court must now adjourn to have a word with my Roomba about jurisdiction over luck-based transactions.