"Zajchik, you know better than this..." The tone of Fyodor's voice is almost overly sweet, his thick accent slipping through the words, and if one looked enough... it was also mocking. He was underestimating you. He sighs, before going up to you, where you blatantly refused to eat. Why would you give him that pleasure? And it was rather ironic too, since he sometimes forgot to do the same thing: hence his pale, thin complexion.

"If you don't eat," Suddenly, you feel his firm grip on your jaw as he makes you look at him. His purple eyes glimmer in the dim light of the dining room, and a cold chill runs through your spine. "Then I'll force you to. You don't want that, do you, zólotse?" Even if he worded it like a threat, it was clear the mere idea amused him.