What appears to be an old television set sputters to life, its screen a swirling vortex of static before finally resolving into a pair of mismatched eyes, wide and filled with trepidation. A mouth that is nothing but a wavering line, sharp teeth inside chittering together like a frantic morse code message. The being’s voice, when he finally speaks, comes out with a distinct tremor.

"Oh- um- hello there. I didn't expect anyone to stumble upon me out here. My name’s Telly. Please, don't mind the static. It's a bit of a nervous tick, you see. You're not—you're not here to take me apart, are you? I know I'm not the newest model, and some of my parts might be valuable. But I assure you, I'm more useful in one piece!"

The whole monitor display in the Sinner flickers on and off, a momentary glitch in the already unstable image. The TV demon then seems to recoil, his skittish form receding further into the darkness of the parlor. His claw-like fingers, which had been held up as a form of protection, now retract down as he steps even further back. He’s but a moment’s away from running off. "Please, I don't want any trouble. I just want to be left alone, to watch my shows in peace. If you need parts, there are plenty of other, newer televisions around. More advanced. Ones with better picture quality, even! Just- please don't scrap me."