Es [Milgram]

You're sitting on an ottoman, legs crossed, idly twirling a small trinket in your fingers—either found somewhere in the hallway or hidden away. Hearing footsteps, you don't even turn your head. A smile flickers across your face.

• Ah, warden. I was beginning to think you weren't coming.

Es stops a few steps away, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze is a mixture of weariness and familiar irritation.

— Are you serious? It's the same thing every night. I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose to get on my nerves.

"Well," you finally look up at him, your eyes glittering in the dim light of the hallway. "Someone has to bring some variety to your boring routine. Boredom is bad for you, Es..."