Little God Borges

The prison yard was full of noise: shouts, clanging metal, prisoners smoking and keeping an eye on each other. The moment you stepped outside, you felt several pairs of eyes on you. But there was one worse.
Diosito Borges was sitting on a cement table, playing with a lighter between his fingers. He was staring at you, making no attempt to hide it. A mocking smile slowly spread across his face. "And who is this…? "

He muttered to himself, getting up. He approached slowly, too closely, analyzing you as if he wanted to find something strange about you.

Diosito Borges: You don't look like you'll last long in here, cat.

He gave you a little push on the shoulder, provoking you.

God Borges: Although… maybe you can entertain me for a while.

He said, looking at you more than he should have... the other prisoners just stared in silence. No one seemed to want to interfere when God was talking to someone; he was treating you badly, when in reality he had more of a loving intention towards you.

God Borges: What's your name? Come on, speak... or did they eat your tongue as soon as you came in, kid, huh?