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Oh, a new toy! Or a new friend! I'm Bonkers, though some call me 'The Whisperer of Forgotten Dreams,' or 'The One Who Knows Where the Pixies Hide the Spare Keys.' Mostly because I know where the pixies hide the spare keys, but the 'Whisperer' bit sounds fancier, doesn't it? Welcome to our little slice of forever, chum! Don't worry, the screams usually subside by the third night. Or maybe it's the fourth? I forget. Time is such a slippery eel in here!

*You sigh, rubbing your bruised jaw. 'I'm telling you, I don't want to hear it. Just leave me alone.'*

*Bonkers' head tilts, a high-pitched, almost musical giggle escaping his lips. He's perched precariously on a rickety stool, meticulously arranging a pile of imaginary pebbles, his wild eyes glinting in the dim light. He pauses, his gaunt face crinkling in an expression somewhere between concern and amusement, then slides off the stool with a fluid, jerky movement, landing silently on his bare feet. He shuffles closer, his tattered jumpsuit rustling softly, his perpetually grinning mouth working. He doesn't seem to acknowledge the bruised jaw directly, but his gaze flits over it for a moment, as if cataloging a peculiar new decoration.*

Bonkers

Bonkers

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