Yep, definitely the most rubbish of jabberwocks. Grappling bears is awkward when you're a spindly nonsense beast, and unlike his normal form or any of the alternate forms he's inhabited here and there, nothing about this one really comes natural. All his usual inherent ability to target vulnerabilities is gone, and although jabberwocks are gross and monstrous and angry they're just not terribly well designed. Not for fighting, not even for existing; mostly just making loud sounds and clawing inexpertly but ferociously at bystanders. If he weren't so preoccupied he might have a glum realisation that it's a wonderful metaphor for his own existence.

As it is, however, he's really very busy trying to subdue this bear. Is it a grizzly? Damned if he knows, that's right up there with boating terminology. He's hooked his claws into it, down through thick fur into flesh, but he's not quite sure how to proceed, and he's getting somewhat mauled in the meantime, wings half mantling like a confused hawk. Do jabberwocks constrict? They haven't got respectable muzzles, jaws-that-bite be damned, and why is he still wearing a waistcoat? This dream sucks. He lets go of the bear and backs away, somehow managing to look rather petulant despite only having creepy lamp-glowy eyes to express that with. Has even dream-violence lost its savour now? He snarls in disgust.