After a few moments of silence that for once Evie didn’t mind, he said, “Fluffy? You looked at me and thought to yourself, He looks like a Fluffy?” The name in the rough gravel of his voice, which seemed to be getting higher pitched in his outrage, sent her tittering. “Fluffy is a beautiful name. I had a dog named Fluffy once.” She nodded succinctly and then deadpanned, “He used to growl at lint.”
