She wanted to. She really, really did. Yelling was just sort of Heather's default. But better make a note of this, James; she valued their tentative little friendship enough that she wouldn't. Instead she let out a looooong sigh, running her hands up over her face and through her sweaty hair. She was sailing without a map here.

"... You didn't tell him anything about... me, did you?"



Harry was quite a bright man, and his hypothesis was absolutely correct. As soon as the crinkly foil wrapper so much as started to glint in the sunlight, Arty's ears stood up and her whiskers quivered. With enormous eyes, she started to sort of-- ... well, stretch her neck towards his hand. She was, essentially, a slinky encased in fur, so this was quite a feat to watch, but in the end it was the same as any other animal with terrible table manners.

She wanted it.

She wanted it oh so very much and Harry why don't you just give it to her look at how stretchy her neck is, can't you see she needs it?