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We’re leaned back, smoking, completely relaxed while you sit there glued to the screen, desperate for whatever scraps we feel like giving you. Socks, smoke, humiliation, it doesn’t matter. You’ll take anything. We laugh at how obvious it is, how needy and pathetic you look hanging onto every second of it like it’s the highlight of your day. And just when you think you can’t sink any lower, Mila snaps her fingers and pixels cover both our feet. Even less for you to cling to now. We mock you for it, for still being turned on when there’s barely anything left to see. Socks, smoke, pixels, and ridicule, and somehow it’s still enough for you. Of course it is. You love being denied, humiliated, and reminded that scraps are all you’re ever going to get from us.