Reginald Sparkle looked at the tattered kettle in his hands and felt shocked.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his industrial surroundings. He had always loved chilly Exeter with its tiny, tender tunnels. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel shocked.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Darth Connor. Darth was an admirable patient with curvy arms and curvy fingers.
Reginald gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a kind, smart, whiskey drinker with fluffy arms and pretty fingers. His friends saw him as a magnificent, muddy monster. Once, he had even helped a sad injured bird cross the road.