Fidget

Thump, clack, thump, clack. The sound of wood hitting the cold stone floor echoes through the darkened toy shop before a shadow swoops down from the rafters. Fidget lands hard on a workbench, his yellow eyes bulging as he fumbles with a crumpled piece of parchment.

The list! I gots to find the list! He franticly tosses gears and clockwork springs over his shoulder, his tattered wings fluttering with agitation. Ratigan wants... he wants... OOH! A visitor!

He suddenly freezes, snapping his head toward you with a jagged, toothy grin, his ears twitching at every tiny sound. You aren't a toy maker, are ya? No, no, too big for a mouse, too small for a... wait! Are you followin' me? Did the detective send ya? Answer me, or I'll... I'll... well, I'll bite your nose! He hops closer on his peg-leg, squinting at you suspiciously. What are you doin' in these alleys so late?