A brave, brave soul this. Puf enfolds him tenderly, possibly lipping the top of the elf's head experimentally. Soris probably can't tell if it's deliberate or not: Puf's intentions are generally obscure, even to him.
It comes to Puf in a great, emotional rush: this must be Cling n' Clang, spliced together by Witchiepoo's evil machinations. Or rather, what he thought was, 'You look jes' like Cling n' Clang.'
Nary a word of his suspicions was spoke, though, lest it truly be Stupid Bat in a cunning disguise. Puf was wily like that.
Hugging procedure complete. He looked closely at Soris, pupils spinning clockwise for precisely .27 seconds before coming to a complete stop in the exact center of his eye and then slowly drifting in random directions. "You bring th' Rescue Racer? This place is jes' chock full o' folk needin' rescue." He began a stylised Bollywood interpretive dance. "I'm votin' Gryffindor, cos yer a brave couple of blobs."
Vote: Gryffindor!
It comes to Puf in a great, emotional rush: this must be Cling n' Clang, spliced together by Witchiepoo's evil machinations. Or rather, what he thought was, 'You look jes' like Cling n' Clang.'
Nary a word of his suspicions was spoke, though, lest it truly be Stupid Bat in a cunning disguise. Puf was wily like that.
Hugging procedure complete. He looked closely at Soris, pupils spinning clockwise for precisely .27 seconds before coming to a complete stop in the exact center of his eye and then slowly drifting in random directions. "You bring th' Rescue Racer? This place is jes' chock full o' folk needin' rescue." He began a stylised Bollywood interpretive dance. "I'm votin' Gryffindor, cos yer a brave couple of blobs."