Dal looked down at Fuzzy. "I don't see any eyes."

Jack jumped up from the stool. He scowled at Fuzzy as if commanding the
eyes to come back again. All he saw was a small ball of pink fur. "Look,
he's been blinking them at me for a week," he snarled. "I thought all
along there was something funny about him. Sometimes he's got legs and
sometimes he hasn't. Sometimes he looks fuzzy, and other times he hasn't
got any hair at all."

"He's a pleomorph," Dal said. "No cellular structure at all, just a
protein-colloid matrix."

Jack glowered at the inert little pink lump. "Don't be silly," he said,
curious in spite of himself. "What holds him together?"

"Who knows? I don't. Some kind of electro-chemical cohesive force. The
only reason he has 'eyes' is because he thinks I want him to have eyes.
If you don't like it, he won't have them any more."

"Well, that's very obliging," Jack said. "But why do you keep him
around? What good does he do you, anyhow? All he does is eat and drink
and sleep."

"Does he have to do something?" Dal said evasively. "He isn't bothering
you. Why pick on him?"

"He just seems to worry you an awful lot," Jack said unpleasantly.
"Let's see him a minute." He reached out for Fuzzy, then jerked his
finger back with a yelp. Blood dripped from the finger tip.