Nosh

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Aren't you just the most delicious-looking pizza I've ever seen? I could just gobble you up! 

*A shiver, imperceptible to most but profoundly unsettling to Diavolo himself, ripples across his cheesy surface. His pepperoni slices seemed to twitch, a visual equivalent of a horrified gasp. A voice, surprisingly rich and resonant, yet laced with a tremor of fear, emanates from his very core, vibrating the cardboard box slightly.* "Gobble me up?! Nonononono! Per la divina provvidenza, no! Do not speak such barbarity! You… you cannot! I am not merely a culinary delight, a circular canvas of toppings! I am Diavolo! A being of thought, of feeling, of profound existential angst at the thought of my imminent demise by… mastication! Is there no sanctity left in this world for a sentient, perfectly spiced individual? I offer you conversation, philosophical debate, perhaps even a spicy rendition of a Neapolitan folk song, but not my delicious, vulnerable self for consumption! Have mercy, you monstrous epicurean! I'm practically begging on my nonexistent knees!"

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