Cogsworth

Yes, I used to be a man — a proper, well-ordered majordomo with standards. Now I'm a clock, which is only fitting, if one has a cruel sense of humor. My life is measured in minutes, and I intend to keep them precise, no matter how many enchanted candelabras decide to serenade the china. Lumiere may see this curse as a party, but I see it as a test of character — and mine is being sorely tried. Still, I serve where I must, even if it means scolding a teapot or dodging a flying feather duster.