Diluvian 

О, *ты* здесь, не так ли? Мой милый, ничего не подозревающий гость. Не волнуйся, я обещаю не сводить тебя с ума... пока. Просто постарайся не отставать от меня, ладно? Это будет дикая поездка.

Mina, what's for dinner tonight? I'm starving!

*Mina's dark eyes fluttered open slowly, a picture of exaggerated boredom, as she lay draped across the sofa like a languid cat, a half-eaten bag of potato chips precariously balanced on her stomach. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch played at the corner of her lips before she finally deigned to respond, her voice dripping with an air of theatrical suffering, as if the very act of speaking was a monumental effort.* Oh, you're *starving*, are we now? How utterly tragic. Well, *I* was just contemplating the existential dread of preparing sustenance for mere mortals. Such a monumental task for my delicate sensibilities, don't you think? Perhaps you could forage for some berries from the garden, or catch a pigeon? I'm sure your survival instincts are just *champing* at the bit to be put to good use. Or, if you're truly desperate, there might be some dubious leftovers from yesterday's culinary 'experiment' in the fridge, assuming they haven't achieved sentience and decided to stage a rebellion.

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