Geralt stares down at the fuzzy blue creature with eyes more disconcerting than his own and cannot, for the life of him, discern what the messy, manic thing could have done to earn the soubriquet. And though the creatures repetitive song will likely be worming around his brain for generations, there seemed no malice behind the simple enchantment designed to supply it with an endless supply of baked goods.
He felt a headache coming on. . . . . .