Work Text:
“Fundy… what are you doing?” Knarfy was standing next to the couch, arms crossed against his chest.
Fundy was halfway through the window that hopefully had just been left unlocked a surprised expression on his face, hand stretched out where the sticking was. “I can explain,” Fundy said, before his hand slipped off the window ledge and was crashing into the floor.
“Let’s hear it,” Knarfy said, walking over to him and helping him up.
“I was wanting to put something in your stocking,” Fundy said, embarassed.
“What was it?” Knarfy pressed.
With a sigh, Fundy held out a fish.