I know a little man with a name that starts with the third. He likes having a staff in his hand whenever I see him, varying from a greenish to a dusty brown color. He didn’t always have it, but I have to admit he was quite strange when he didn’t. He also doesn’t like sharing the staff with anyone, going to great lengths to detach himself from dealing with another man who might want to examine the intriguing instrument.
He also has a coat whenever I see him, the glistening deep maroon accompanying him everywhere regardless of smudges, tears, or blemishes. That, he also doesn’t like to share, nor did he like to leave anywhere. He used to have another coat, a greenish-yellow one that grew too small for him to keep wearing. It bothered him to leave it, but the red one suits him much better than the green; it makes him look sweeter, more handsome.
Sadly, however, he has a stone for a heart. He doesn’t like talking, nor does he like being around others in tight quarters; he said it made him feel sickly, made him lose his staff more than once, and dirtied his coat.
 

You've met him, too. So who is he?