Mellifluous
Greebo followed the sound of the somewhat less-than-mellifluous voice, and ended up at a small creek. There was a man in it, washing. He was obviously not a resident of Lancre, otherwise he would never have left his clothes on a bank unless they had been placed inside a strongbox. A heavy strongbox. With a lock. He played briefly with the forlorn looking hat that said “Wizzard” in peeling letters, then dragged the hat, the robe, and the greying underpants into a bush. Then he crouched down, and concentrated, and changed, and sat back in wait…
Greebo liked to play.
Greebo liked to play.