This is Bod.
We met last year at Jamaica Inn on Bodmin Moor, and recognised each other immediately.
For a start, he didn’t belong. The other bears on the shelf were far more proper. They sat with both feet on deck, while Bod had a sneaky wriggle and kick in a moment of subtle rebellion.
Added to that, he looked hopeful: the look of a bear who knows what he wants but won’t ask, partly to avoid disappointment, but mostly in the belief that asking somehow diminishes the magic of getting.
I understand this completely. But it’s depressingly self-defeating, Bod.