"Should I check it for poison?"
I make the question a joke, and you laugh but your eyes do not appreciate the humor. Nervous, you nearly drop the plate.
You don't trust me, though I've given you no cause; somehow, I threaten your master where the others do not. When I'm near, you guard his side. Always, your eyes follow me, weighing my every move as though I were a serpent loose in the baby's nursery.
You're charged with his protection and as a warrior, I laud your caution.
Perhaps it wouldn't bother me so, if I weren't the only one.