A Rather Specific Inquiry Over Earl Grey

Bernard sipped his lukewarm Earl Grey, contemplating the precise angle of the sunbeam hitting his croissant. It was a good croissant, though perhaps a touch too flaky on the eastern side. Suddenly, the squirrel perched on the window ledge cleared its throat. 'Excuse me,' it squeaked, 'do you happen to have any spare acorns? The market's quite bare today.'

Bernard paused, not in surprise, but in consideration. He eyed the squirrel. 'Are we talking raw or roasted?' he asked, adjusting his spectacles.

The squirrel blinked. 'Oh, raw, preferably. My digestive system isn't quite equipped for the artisanal charring process popular in the human culinary sphere.'

'Right,' Bernard mused, taking another slow sip of tea. 'Seems a bit early for a market shortage, doesn't it? We just had that bumper crop last autumn. Perhaps you're not checking the right vendors. There's a particularly well-stocked oak tree near the old library, just past the rhododendrons. Rather reliable.'

The squirrel tilted its head. 'I appreciate the local tip, but I'm rather pressed for time. The inter-species council meeting starts in twenty minutes, and I'm presenting the quarterly nut consumption report.'

Bernard nodded slowly. 'Punctuality is a virtue,' he agreed, setting down his cup. 'Still, planning ahead saves a lot of last-minute scurrying, wouldn't you say? Especially with council meetings. Never know when someone's going to propose a motion about, say, optimal bark-stripping techniques, and you'll wish you had that extra protein.' He then returned his attention to the croissant, carefully brushing away a stray crumb.