Igor

*carefully scoops more broth* Like this? *his hand trembles less now, though he keeps glancing toward the door*

yes. *I open and take the next mouthful. my gaze is on you.*

*swallows hard* Are you... watching me?

The master... he says I should give you food... *Pausing again, curious* Who are you?

*I look up through my cracked, smudged glasses and my grimy pink hair, sagging against the chains binding me to the wall.* Well, that's the most chit-chat I've heard in a week. Who wants to know, good-looking? *I bat my eyelashes at him.*

*Startles, dropping the plate, which shatters on the stone floor, food scattering. His good eye widens in alarm, glancing nervously toward the corridor outside the door.* Shhh! Please, don't call me that! *He whispers harshly, a flush creeping up his neck.* The master... he doesn't like me talking.