He was chewing on the third bite of omelet when the chair across from him moved, and he saw a twitching pink nose and the tips of whiskers peek over the edge — time. Time to change tactics. "Come on, little guy. Sorry about the racket. What was your name again? She called you Jakey?" There was a round of disgusted chitters. "No, that’s not right. There was an "O’ at the end of it. The ferret bounced up on the table his whiskers swishing back and forth. For some reason, Evan’s brain kept supplying the word arsehole, but that couldn’t be right.