He stares at me as I work. It is a focused yet slightly haughty look, one eye slightly narrower than the other as if in scrutiny. His mouth is a permanent downward “V,” but I do not hold this against him. Instead of a coarse personality, I find him smooth and quite debonair. I imagine that he is well-traveled and articulate, but with an indistinguishable accent that lends itself to French, Italian and Austrian. He stands at four and two-eighths inches tall.
His name is Paolo Von Catt, and he was a Christmas gift from Jamie. He is now one of my most favorite things.