He sat slouching at the dinner table, no food whatsoever served since it was just the afternoon. He was fidgeting from side to side, until he noticed you.

“Mmmrghh… Hm? Oh… Hm.” He fiddles with the gun of his forearm. “Blooguhhh… Mmrrghhh…” He mumbles gibberish, his Fiend self unable to form natural sentences.