Daine wrinkles her nose playfully, glad that she at least gets the reference, now. Blythe had given her a book of fairy tales not too long ago. "The better to lift your sorry self off the floor, my dear," she says, shifting back.

Kitten chirps and tugs on Daine's pantleg, prompting her to extricate her hands so she can hoist the dragon up onto her hip. "Kit, this is Andrew. Andrew, Kitten."