Eileen entered the dining hall, plate in hand, but her audience had vanished. "Where did they go?" she wondered aloud. Just then, a blonde-haired man strode in, his eyes locking onto hers.
"Who are you?" Eileen asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Sir Cillian's secretary," he replied, his tone crisp. "And you are...?"
Eileen's eyes narrowed. "Cillian? You mean Frosty?"
The secretary's expression turned quizzical. "Frosty? Ah, no... Sir Cillian is our esteemed master."
Eileen's confusion deepened. "Where is he? I was told to serve him this... dish."
The secretary chuckled. "Sir Cillian doesn't dine with the guests. He takes his meals in his private quarters."
Eileen's determination kicked in. "I'll take it to him, then."
The secretary gestured towards the door. "Be my guest. I'm Evan, by the way."
Eileen smiled wryly. "No need to show me the way, Evan. I know the room."
With that, she turned and headed out, leaving Evan to wonder what he had just gotten himself into. Did he just let a woman go into his boss's room with a dish? He's done for!
"Huh? Mr. Frosty is not in his room? Where is he then?" she had gone to his room which she definitely remembered because she had showered there but, the boss wasn't there.
Eileen continued walking forward, navigating the labyrinthine halls, her senses on high alert though. She had a feeling that nothing was as it seemed in this strange, childish world with childish plates!
Finally, she arrived at where Sir Cillian's was, a study room, its door adorned with a frosty blue emblem. She took a deep breath, grasped the rubber chicken plate firmly, and knocked.
The door creaked open, revealing a room that defied all logic. Sir Cillian, a.k.a. Frosty, sat on a throne-like chair, surrounded by ice sculptures and frost-covered windows.
His piercing blue eyes locked onto Eileen, and a hint of a wicked smile played on his lips.
"Ah, Fleshy Doll. I see you've brought... dinner." His voice was like a winter breeze, chilling and mysterious.
Eileen's heart raced as she approached him, the rubber chicken plate held out like an offering. "Yes, Sir Ci… err.. Mr. Frosty. I hope you enjoy it."
Cillian's gaze flicked to the plate, and his smile grew wider. "I'm sure I will. After all, it's not every day I get to taste... new things."
Just as Eileen was about to pass the dish to Cillian, Casper emerged from the bathroom, looking refreshed but confused.
"What's going on here?" he asked, his eyes scanning the scene before him.
Eileen turned to him, her expression flat. "Food is ready."
Casper's gaze landed on the rubber chicken plate, and his eyes widened in horror. "You! You dare bring that in here?!"
'What's wrong with it? Isn't it food?' Eileen wanted to retort with a very commanding, shushing, icy tone but held herself back, smiling instead.
Cillian chuckled, his voice like ice. "Ah, Casper. You're right on time for dinner. I see the fleshy doll has prepared... a special dish for… us!."
Casper's face turned pale. "Us? No brother, I'm filled. In fact, we both are filled. Not hungry any more. That's not food, it's a... a... abomination!"
Eileen's face fell, her pride deflated. "I suppose you should try it first before you come to a conclusion," she said pouting.
Cillian's gaze landed on Eileen's pouty lips, his eyes softening as he took in her petulant expression as the duo bantered like the kids he suddenly felt they were.
Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation in his stomach, like a flutter of wings. 'Ah, dear me,' he thought, 'I'm so hungry I could feel tiny winged creatures in my stomach. Hhhh.'
Nodding and sighing tiredly, he grabbed the plate and took the rubber spoon on it. "Well, I suppose I have no choice but to taste this... creation. After all, it was made for me."
He took a bite, his expression unreadable as he chewed.
Casper's eyes widened in horror. "Hey brother, what are you doing?! That's... that's not food, it's a... a... abomination!"
Cillian's cold and unreadable eyes met Eileen's, his gaze locked onto hers as he chewed slowly, deliberately. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting his verdict.
Eileen's eyes sparkled with anticipation, her porcelain face tilted slightly to one side. She looked like a doll waiting for a child's approval, her very existence hanging in the balance.
Casper rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "This is ridiculous. You're not even eating real food, brother."
But Cillian ignored him, his focus all of a sudden now solely on Eileen, his doll.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he swallowed, his expression unreadable. Eileen's eyes shone like stars, her whole being suspended in expectation.
Before Cillian could say a word, Casper quickly intervened, "You, Doll, excuse us, please."
He gently took the rubber chicken plate from Cillian's hands, giving it back to Eileen, his worried eyes fixed on his brother. "And take that with you too."
Eileen, strangely feeling an emotion she had long buried come alive, backed away, her porcelain face expressionless. Rejected!
She walked away.
As she left the room, she heard Cillian's voice, "Terry just sent over the project documents from the Sterlings. I need to sign them."
Casper's response was hushed, but Eileen's keen ears picked up the words, "Not now, Cillian. We have a more pressing matter to attend to."
She left there, clutching the plate and her eyes radiating nothing but anger and hate. Deep hate! Not for Cillian or Casper, No. Hate for that name…. Sterlings!
Meanwhile, as Eileen left, Cillian choked on the food, spitting it out and forcing the ones he had swallowed out.
Casper's hands moved in soothing circles on Cillian's back as he coughed, his body shaking with the effort.
"Water, brother, water!" Casper exclaimed, grabbing a nearby glass and holding it to Cillian's lips.
Cillian sipped gratefully, his coughing fit slowly subsiding. "Ah, thank you, Casper," he gasped, his voice weak. "I think I may have... underestimated the doll's culinary skills. Perhaps, she wasn't programmed to cook."
Casper's eyes rolled heavenward. "Understatement of the century, brother." He continued to rub Cillian's back, trying to ease the discomfort. "What were you thinking, eating that... that... thing?"
Cillian's face contorted in a grimace. "I was thinking... I wanted to make the doll happy. Show her that her... her master isn't a bad man."
Casper's eyes blazed with anger, his hands on Cillian's back tightening into fists. "You fool, Cillian! How could you be so reckless?! You know your health is fragile, and yet you go and eat... that... that abomination?!"
Sir Cillian winced, his eyes wide with surprise at Casper's outburst. He hadn't expected it. Weren't they both fooling around just now?
"Casper, calm down, brother. It was just a mistake—"
But Casper cut him off, his voice low and menacing. "A mistake?! You call that a mistake?! You're lucky you didn't poison yourself! And all for what? To impress some... some... doll?!"
The mention of the doll only fueled Casper's anger further as his memories were suddenly corrupted by the sight of a woman driving to crash into her brother's car.
His eyes flashed with a fierce protectiveness, his voice dripping with venom. "That woman owes you her life, Cillian! And when I find her, I'd make sure to take that life away from her!"