[It's a late evening when Beelzebub finally circles around to the buffet. There's an odd hesitation into how he picks through the food, despite how eagerly his stomach growls, an audible noise even from a respectable distance.
But it seems he's trying to hold himself back. A tiny bit, at least. And he looks borderline miserable doing it.
He'll give a nod to Zelkov whenever he spots him, picking at his fourth plate of pasta in the last twenty minutes.]
Mn. Good evening.
I'm glad they didn't pin you down with their questions earlier.
WEEK 2 - POST-TRIAL
But it seems he's trying to hold himself back. A tiny bit, at least. And he looks borderline miserable doing it.
He'll give a nod to Zelkov whenever he spots him, picking at his fourth plate of pasta in the last twenty minutes.]
Mn. Good evening.
I'm glad they didn't pin you down with their questions earlier.