He gave one last stroke against his hairline before his hands withdrew. He went for the old criss-cross applesauce on the bar top and eased his elbows against his knees.

"Weeell, don't cease any feral screaming urges on my account." He gave Alastor a nudge.

But as he idled, he reached down to the countertop, he tapped three claws against the surface. In their wake were tiny golden lights that shaped into tiny bouncing fawns chasing each other. One tripped, all legs, but quickly stood and shook off. It had meant to do that.

"...You'd make some fluffy little monsters, though."