Still, I try to be polite. Like, I'm just kinda showing up.

[Peter looks around with clear interest, whiskers wiggling somewhat in turn. He walks towards the sofa, sinking into it. He gives a startled little squeak, holding up the bag.

The couch was not made for a pooka. Peter winces as he tries to not sink any further into it.]

Oh, um, you might wanna take these. I think your couch is eating me.