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[timelysteward]

[Does this look like a harassed clock with a human face? Does it? Good, because it's Cogsworth, sitting in front of a window on the Marvisa and he looks like he just swallowed about a half a dozen lemons. In his tiny brass hands he is holding a piece of paper, and he keeps fiddling with it, shifting it between his two hands.

He puts one brass hand up to his mouth, clears his throat, and then fumbles with the paper for a moment. Could he be ... nervous? It's possible.

Lips pressed together, the time hands on his face twitching, he states flatly.]

Hello. My name is Cogsworth and I am a ... [now he has to look at the word.] Ho-mo-sexual. I realize that I am a ... clock, but I assure you that I am not a ho-mo-sex-ual clock, but a ho-mo-sex-ual man. I have been ... told. Rigorously.

[Here he is glowering.]

That I need to ... 'embrace' this. So. If there are any ... individual males who would not mind ... being complimented by a ... human clock, then, ah. Please! Come forward.

[Okay he'll try a smile but it's more of a sheepish grimace at this point. God help him.]