3vil Chef.

Well, like I said earlier, my little sis moved out, leaving me with no one to talk to but the boys and mother dearest, neither do I feel comfortable enough to be entirely candid with, but such is life, eh?
So, being forced to make conversation on the most banal subjects, I'm slowly learning how ordinary people talk. It's like 'My Fair Lady' without the supporting actors and songs (too bad, it woulda been loverly).
Trained Eliza Cyan: "I do so enjoy the little walks down memory lane with mum."
Old Cyan: "Because you can zone out, am-I-roit?"
Trained Eliza Cyan, setting teacup down: "Certainly not, miss meany, her stories are not in the least bit boring. Did you know, for example, that her little brother refused to eat his mashed potatoes at the dinner table?"
Old Cyan: "Rivetting. And of what use is this info? Where is this pandering getting you?"
Trained Eliza Cyan: "Why, the history of our family is tantamount, for it has ties to our... future... okay, fine, there's no point in it, but I think it makes mom feel better to talk about these things..."
Old Cyan: "Meanwhile we shrivel inside. By the way, how's that new sketch coming?"
*both turn* A mysterious easel sits in the shadowed corner, the gloom impenetrable.
Eliza Cyan, slowly lifting teacup, taking small sip: "I think it is our best yet."
Old Cyan: "There's no telling how it will be received, of course, but if we don't get at least 3 likes for it, I'll be extremely disappointed."
Eliza Cyan: "Of course we always aim to please, but I'm sure in that event, we will adapt flawlessly as befitting our elevated status."
Old Cyan: "You can do that, I shall chuck cabbages at random market-goers."