"Do I look pretty?" Olivia chirped over Branhield's head. "You look very lovely,"
Branhield retorted in her usual dry voice. The two had been requested to join
the evening's ball in celebration of something-or-other, neither of them really
cared much for the why's. Olivia's blindness made things like dressing herself
difficult, so Branhield had picked out the outfit for the evening, and had
apparently done a sublime job of it.

Olivia was quiet for a brief moment, before leaning over Branhield and
whispering with a smile. "Do you look pretty?" Branhield stopped mid stride
and held for a moment, looking down at herself and considering the question.
Olivia swore she could almost hear a faint smile as Branhield finally replied.
".. I look pretty."

---

Branhield isn't the most friendliest of ladies. Except towards Olivia, they seem to
get along exceptionally well. Maybe it's a motherly instinct thing. Or maybe it's
because Olivia can literally douse Branhield's flames better than anyone.

 Dreadwolf owns the blind kittycat. Solar Nuke the Fox is mine.