Isabella Mariel Swan ∀ &quot;Glass&quot;

"Yes, sorry." Notwitch starts snapping her fingers imperiously at all the implements, and they put themselves away. The still-dry pancake mix finds itself a lid and tucks itself into a cupboard. "It looks like it's a hiking trip after all. Will Her Majesty also not let me look at the Skyvault if I arrive not-on-a-dragon?"

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"The dragon is not significant. The presence or absence of another member of the royal family is. We are each capable of showing you the Skyvault on our own authority."

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"Well, it seems like it would put you much farther out of your way to hike there with me for four days. I have this awful phobia of brooms ever since a temperamental one kicked me off of it, and I'm still saving up to order a carpet to enchant..."

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"Do not consider it going out of our way," says Sherlock. "That would imply far too much planning and coordination on our part."

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"So when you said you were looking for - no, come to think of it, you didn't, you said Her Majesty wanted you to look for husbands. Ah-ha."

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"Let us say that if I were to look into the Pool of Heart's Desire, I do not think I would see a suitable husband looking back at me."

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"You know, I do actually know where that one is. The window I mentioned showed me someone who needed to find it, last year. What do you think you'd see?"

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"I have no idea. But a husband would not be it."

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"Not even an unsuitable one?"

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"Not even that."

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Notwitch giggles. "I had a look in the pool once. It's pretty useless to me. I already know what things I want, and it doesn't dispense advice on getting them."

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"What did it show you?"

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"Well," says Notwitch. "It doesn't give you a complete rundown of everything you want - just the most indispensable heartfelt desire. Which is another reason it's not that practically useful. But since you're curious - I got a picture of me sitting in my study, with Cricket on my lap and a book in my hands - and the calendar displaying a date some nine thousand years in the future."

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"Cat-inclusive immortality. Very nice."

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"Well, I'd miss him," says the not-a-witch. Cricket leaps to the table in front of her, purring. "Yes, I would, I'd miss you," she tells her cat. "I told you this when I got back from the pool then, don't you remember, silly creature."

"Mrrrow!"

"I love you too, Cricket."

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"Awwwwww," says Tony.

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"Mew," says Cricket to Tony.

"Be polite," says notwitch to Cricket. "Yes, I know she can't understand you, that doesn't make it less rude."

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"What'd he say?"

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"Are you sure you want the translation?"

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"...Yes?"

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"He says you only think it's cute that I'd miss him if he died because you don't have a sufficient conception of nonhuman personhood. It wasn't phrased quite that gently, though."

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"What," she says, "no, the cute part is you saying 'I love you too'!"

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"Mew."

"He apologizes. Resentfully."

"Mrrow meow meow."

"He thinks you wouldn't think it was cute for me to tell him that I love him too if he were not a cat."

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"One, he's wrong. Again. Two, cute things are cuter when there is more fluffiness involved, I have graphs."

She grins.

"But apology accepted anyway."

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