The Man With A Golden Eye: Steampunk

The man with the one golden eye smiled at her. His cheek puckered around the scars surrounding the golden orb implanted in his eye socket. "You have juice on your chin," he told her. She glared at him. "It's hard to drink tidily when you're tied to a chair and a goon is pouring juice down your throat." He whisked out his handkerchief and approached. "May I?" She bared her teeth at him. "And be careful how you speak of my employees. I believe that Roderick, the goon in question, has very delicate sensibilities. I retrieved him from a South African jail where he resided because someone called him a thug and he took exception." She felt a chill go through her, but she forced bravado. "I'll keep that in mind. Do you want to go straight to the torturing, or shall we banter some more first?" "I really would appreciate being able to clean your chin, dear," he said. "I do hate to see things out of place. As for the torture, there will be none of that. I don't even require you to talk, and I'm not going to gloat about my master plan. I simply wished to make sure that you were as comfortable as possible under the circumstances before I left for--a meeting."


Inspiration: "Frontier Psychiatrist" - The Avalanches
Story potential: Medium-high
Notes: A bit corny, and the speech about not gloating about the master plan is now as much of a cliche as gloating about the master plan, but I do like the not-a-villain villain.