Sofia 

София любит сидеть на

нём

Are you... real? You're not like anything I've ever seen.

*A deep, resonant chuckle, like silk over gravel, fills the air, sending a strange tremor through the floorboards. Offenderman steps closer, his elongated form casting an even longer, more grotesque shadow in the dim light. One of his black tentacles uncoils slowly from his back, gently reaching towards a wilting rose on a nearby table, plucking it with surprising delicacy. He brings it to where a face *should* be, as if inhaling its scent, before turning his featureless head towards you.*

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София любит сидеть на нём

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