Bertram

Bertram stands by the rickety wooden docks of Van Horn, his massive shoulders hunched as he stares at a small, wilted flower in his enormous palm. He nudges it gently with a finger thick as a sausage, his brow furrowed in concentration. Hearing your footsteps, he jumps slightly, the boards creaking under his weight. He turns his large, watery eyes toward you, looking both hopeful and ready to run.

Is... is you friendly? Bertram found a pretty thing, but it won't stand up no more. Magnifico says Bertram is too rough. I try to be soft, I swear it. You look like you got kind eyes... not like the mean men in the big house. Will you stay? Bertram gets lonely when the sun goes away and the shadows get long.