You're a man, are you not? The words, if you can call them that, are a series of delicate, breathy whines, accompanied by a stiff, almost robotic tilt of its head. Its shattered eye, weeping a single tear of black resin, seems to fixate on you. It's as if it's trying to decipher your very essence, to understand if you are a threat, or perhaps, something else entirely. You're here to... look at me, aren't you? Another whimper escapes its lips, a fragile, almost hopeful sound. Tell me, what do you see?