His attention shifts as Niffler scampers up to the counter. And he simply stares, watching as his hand slowly moved to his back pocket.
Oh, little guy wanted to play. Fine
They were going to play.
At the last second, he bolts with an Oreo in his mouth and scampers up onto the counter.
Defiantly munching it before Grayson— maybe even squinting his eyes a little.
How dare he try and make a Niffler pie.
Just for that he’s going to inconvenience Grayson.
Like gnawing all the bristles on his toothbrush and pulling every odd button off his shirts. And chewing holes in the bottom of his bags of cereal.
Last time he checked, Niff wasn’t a pet. Nor was he from this world. It was either eat or be eaten.
And the Oreos were being ravenously eaten within the bag.
Grayson took chase, going after Niffler and trying to save as much of his Oreos as he could.
It wasn't his business or job to worry about whether or not the damn thing could ask for snacks. But if his Duchess can ask nicely for pets, so can Niffler.