A pint of Fortescue’s  finest fudge graced her lap. Crookshanks watched with judgemental eyes as she dug her spoon directly into the carton. "Oh, sod off, old man," she retorted, immediately consumed by guilt for snapping at her familiar. Grumbling chatter responded. "I’m sorry, come back!" she called to him as his bottle-brush tail disappeared around the corner to her bedroom.