andhiswife | (Reply)

"Thank goodness for friends with good taste," she says, giving his arm a pat. She's only half joking. Just because she can technically afford a certain measure of luxury doesn't mean she knows what to do with it -- at least as far as clothing is concerned. There are things she knows are fashionable -- to the natives, at least -- that she can't bring herself to find desirable, because they're just too odd. That Biffy managed to find something both fine and matching her own sensibilities is no small feat.

She just hums in response to his next reassurance. There's a hint of 'I'll be the judge of that' in the pitch and tone, though she doesn't sound truly concerned. In all honesty, she doubts she has it in her to give anyone a proper grilling anytime soon. As Biffy probably well knows. But it's nice to pretend she has her own life in such perfect order that she might do a bit of light meddling in someone else's.

The farmhouse is a comforting, familiar sight -- as is the cat that appears shortly after Biffy opens the door. "Hello, Pawvus," Greta says, crouching down to give him a little scritch. Less expected is the sound of another little four-legged something galloping down the hall, and Greta lifts her gaze, expecting to see another cat, or perhaps a dog.

Instead, what rounds the corner is an over-large lizard with a pair of tiny wings folded close against its sides. A dragon? Greta lets out a quiet hoot of astonishment, and the dragon pulls up short, paws skittering on the hardwood, its reptilian eyes widening as if it's just as surprise to see her as she is to see it. Greta wants to look up at Biffy for an explanation, but she can't seem to tear her eyes away from the little thing. She doesn't know what it could be besides a dragon, but it's so small.