“Oh, I just popped in ter see ‘ow me friends were doin’.” Bert says, gesturing to the penguins bustling in and out of the kitchen. “Ya don’t ‘ave ter spare a table for little ol’ me.”

“Not Royal Academy, I s’ppose. Still better than a finger in the eye, ain't they?”

“Wot a mess these kids are in, huh? Much worse than I though’ it ‘ad been. Some migh’y dis’urbing’ stories from my kids. Worse part is that they don’t realize it.”

“OH! Um, these are for you.” He pinched the bottom of the smaller canvas and pulled the flowers out of it, handing them over to her. “And um, I ‘ope you like it.” He gestures to the bigger painting. “It won’t wash away too easily loike a chalk drawin’.”

“‘Ello little Roo!” Bert said with a great big smile, leaning down to greet the young buck. “Yo’re rather jumpy terday. Anythin’ excitin’ ‘appen?”

“Am I?” Hands go to his knees, like he’s speaking to a child. “Oh, well that’s a mio’ty kinda ‘onor you’ve given me, Tigger.” There’s a brief tip of his hat. “Thank ya kindly!”

“Well, at least ol’ Albert will ‘ave got some com’any up there, aye?” Bert giggles, as he often does when around the man they call their Uncle.