The apparition shambled closer to the pair until, appearantly, he decided to stop, his arms left dangling a little at his sides. His face wasn't visible below the hat or above the scarves, tunics, massive coat, and miscellaneous oddiments that covere him from head to toe, but dark eyes were just visible in the gloom, and they were watching the pair with interest. A solid ten seconds passed with him staring intently before with a fluid motion, he grabbed the brim of his hat, an sagged his body several inches as the hat remained exactly at the same hat, achieving an effect like a courtsey mixed with a hat tipping.
"Was the bloody trumpet, my foot itches like blazes!!" He exclaimed jovially. With the hat replaced, he set into a sort of ground-state conversational mutter, and said
"Give it to them blue on the buttered side! THE BUTTERED SIDE I SAID! I said, I said! My aren't your apples a rasputin! Have you jellybeaned them tommorow?" He asked, like he was talking about some grand new thing! He leane towards them conspiratorially and said, with a furtive glance around at his surroundings, as if someone was going to overhear
"Everyone's rooting for the wall weasles this season, and now the worm is an oyster! Hoohoohoo they done us out so they think but we'll show them the wrong end of a blind man's nipple, so we shall! Ohh yes, you can bet on it with your poking stick, old Blie Ass Fly is going to win the race! And you can tell em' that Madcap Turnip told ya!" He said, as if imparting trade secrets to another craftsmen, or the sauciest gossip to be had.
