Blair watched the marmalade drip down from the sandwich to land on the table, fascinated by the pattern of amber splodges. Other drips hadn't made it that far and were tangled stickily in soft brown fur.

"So tell me," he began, as Paddington took another large bite, washing it down with a healthy swig of cocoa. "When you were Jim's Guide in Darkest Peru, did he like marmalade back then? I mean, is it something I should be getting him to eat regularly?"

Paddington gave him a Hard Stare. "It makes my fur shiny. You don't give your Sentinel marmalade?"

"I tried him on algae shakes once," Blair mumbled. Jim's fur -- hair -- was plenty shiny, dammit.

The Hard Stare intensified.

"I'll go to the store right now and get some," Blair said hastily. "If you're really staying for a week --"

"Two."

Damn.

"We'll need a jar."

"Three jars," Paddington said thoughtfully. "And some buns for elevenses. And some more cocoa."

Blair smiled uneasily, transfixed by the stare, and tripped over Paddington's suitcase on the way to the door, bumping his head on the support beam.

Look after this Bear?

Fine; but who was going to take care of the Guide?


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