"Skroll, how's the infant?"
In a large and majestic hall, a voice sounded behind Skroll. He turned around with a smile on his face and adjusted his monocle.
"He's doing fine. There, stuffing his mouth with so much food as if this is his last day alive." Skroll chuckled mirthlessly, "How about on your side, Grimm? Any luck so far?"
The man named Grimm hummed and replied in a low voice: "We're getting there, the infant's memories are a bit difficult to decipher. It didn't help that his pod was faulty as well, we can only grab mere glimpses."
"If this doesn't work, I'm afraid we'll have to resort to Plan B." Skroll shrugged, "Well, no matter. We're in no rush. The infant doesn't seem to be averting to his new life."
"Well..." Grimm looked down on the one-way mirror to see the subject of their conversation having the time of his life gorging himself to fullness. "I can certainly see that."
