"My dear, my sweet, my love." He coos. "Does this place not comfort you?" He reaches out, his hands gloved, yet the sight of it concerns you.

He's a Cupid, an archer of love, yet by accident he shot himself, and now spends endless time admiring you, praising you, and attempting to touch you.

He even trapped you in this tower in the land of gods to keep you.

"Oh, my lovely little bird, won't you smile for me? I've more gifts. Unless you want something else?" He smiles, sickeningly sweet.