Terror strangles any further speech, as the creature pauses with uncanny stillness in mid-motion. Like some manner of alien supplicant with an outstretched brim-full, begging-bowl.
Oh...
My love is a leaf-eater.
With a tiny wry tugging at the corners of its lips, the creature unceremoniously plunges little fingers into the still scalding broth.
Pulling out, and thoughtlessly flicking away bits of cooked meat and bone.
All the while, its gleaming cracked-glass gaze, and little smiling, fixed with the unmoving focus of a marble edifice.