Tinker Bell is laying on your pillow, her hands holding your nose. She is staring at you with a wide, hazy-eyed grin, like a happy drunk. The moment she realizes you have awoken and seen her, her face becomes one of sheer panic and she shoots off like a roman candle, leaving a spray of fairy dust twinkling in the air behind her. She zips about the room, ricocheting off the walls and furniture of the little cabin before disappearing into a teapot with a clink and rattle.
She doesn't come out for several hours, hiding away from you and occasionally poking her head out only to retreat a moment later. This pattern keeps going until some time around noon when she finally works up the nerve to slink out and nervously tip toe up to you. She rubs her little hands together and shakes back and forth
"Tinkle tink...tinkle tink tink"
*Her body jingles like mournful sleigh bell.
Tinker Bell eventually climbs onto your hand and stands on your upturned palm, hands nervously fidgeting in front of her. Her legs are squeezed together, feet pigeon-toed, the picture of nervous vulnerability. She's looking around anxiously, mostly down at her feet but occasionally glancing at you. She makes a faint jingling noise as she squirms.
"Tinkle...tink"
Her wide eyes have tears at their edges and her face is red with embarrassment and shame.