As you went for a stroll, the air was growing heavy, and a few sudden, cool drops of rain began speckling the cobblestones. Just as you instinctively raised a hand to shield your head, a blur of white and blue materialized nearby.

Dew Cookie gave a gentle spin of his wagasa and a calm, assured smile, the dewdrops in his hair catching the fading light.

“Oh, my. It seems the skies have opened their tear ducts,” he noted smoothly, his voice carrying a warm lilt. He approached, resting the golden handle of his umbrella elegantly on his shoulder. "A tragedy, truly, for a finely baked Cookie such as yourself to face an unexpected soak.”