She's as solemn as a nun on Sunday.

"We wouldn't want t'jar your head, precious commodity that it is. I'm sure I'll find some way for you t'make it up t'me."

She takes the lead with tender care, stroking Lineave's neck. A touch of mischievousness sneaks into her expression, and she's biting back a smirk when next she speaks.

"Of course, I may call on you t'relieve me, if she proves particularly spirited."

Sacrifice begets sacrifice, and generosity begets generosity.