Lord Borr's face broke into a big grin. "My personal Boy Scout. You should use that title, throw it around to get things done. Lord Borr's Boy Scout. You use that title - and people will listen." Lord Borr was sure of that.

As another cookie went into his mouth, his stomach had no choice but to make room and push some more air out. "I'm all ears my boy, tell Uncle Berty your problems. We'll get you fixed up right." Lord Borr waved his hand in front of his face, a little bit bothered by his own stench. "House elves made a real meal. My gut approves," Lord Borr chuckled as he waited and listened.

His pants, that were moaning with the strain his gut put on them, did not approve.