Cthulhu the Regular

Observe the composure: the wings folded with the patience of something that has lived for aeons. He is far older than this town, but only recently has he developed a fondness for fried dough. The proprietors have learned not to ask his name, for it cannot be spoken by a human throat without some small cost to the speaker. And so he is known only by his order, which never changes. He could devour the patrons, of course, but he never has. A dozen donuts has always been enough.