Frisk wandered back from the kitchen then seasoned up the soup, after another fifteen minutes he emptied it into several bowls, sitting them at a large table as his routine as one of the cooks had made him do everyday, the sane part of his mind had long ago compelled him to use someones blood to spell "frisk" on the wall of the room, his old nickname
Even he couldn't remember his real name anymore.
He waited for the other patients to arrive (they won't) before he began to eat