"Attendant? Is that some kind of sick joke?"
Looking at the man who claimed his name to be Bifrons, Ren put his worries out on the table.
"I assure you it is no joke. I understand you're awfully tired, so please, use this time to relax, Ren."
Bifron's voice was as smooth as silver, as enigmatic as he was, it held a subtle aspect of comfort within it. Clapping his hands together, a tray conjured in front of Ren, bringing with it a delightful fragrance of grilled meat of some kind and a variety of spices.
As much as he doubted any kindness from the trial, his stomach let out a roar at the smell of this culinary gift before him.
"It seems at least your stomach is honest."
Winking, Bifron clasped his tone in humor, moving his hand to gesture for Ren to lift the silver lid of the tray.
