Voodoo Dolls. Every witch worth her broom had them, even if they were never used, and Magicka DeSpell was far from the exception. Not only did our favorite Vesuvian witch have dolls of her enemies, she had dolls of her enemies' friends, her friends' enemies and her enemies' friends! But many of them went unused except for two; one was, of course, of Scrooge McDuck. She absolutely hated him, and when the thoughts of him boiled into white anger, she would take out a sharp pin and jab it into his leg, heart or anywhere she could manage without stabbing herself.
The other doll was used for an entirely different reason. The other doll she wouldn't jab for any reason at all, or even hold too roughly, not if her life depended on it. You see, this doll was important to her as anything in her possession, as it was a button-eyed effigy of somebody she held dear to her heart, even if he never felt the same way. She loved the doll as much as the real thing.
Their encounters together had been limited; occasionally they met when fighting for opposite sides, or even once on the bus when her broom was at the shop. He had bumped her and after the standard "death-glare-and-get-the-hell-out-of-my-way", he blushed and politely let her pass. Of course, when she used her magic to spy on Duckburg, she noticed him. He was always going from one place or another, foolishly trying to help everyone who asked. Never, save once, did he lose his temper or become upset. "Stupid tinker, thinks he can solve everything!" Magicka often said something of that caliber when Poe was around, to stop him from teasing her or saying something about him being her Bella Cullen, knowing full well that she detested Twilight and anything else that put the supernatural in a moronic or, Heaven Forbid, "tween-friendly" light. But when she was alone, she would simply gaze into it with an odd longing. She respected him for his naivety and trust in true faith in humanity. When did she last trust or believe in someone other than herself or Poe? She didn't remember.
Some nights when it was late and she felt a bit lonely, she took it out and played with it. He would be asleep of course, so it would be safe to cradle it or pet its head. She wasn't ever the most affectionate witch, or even affectionate at all, but it was small stuff. Occasionally she would whisper in its ear and hope he heard her. "Goodnight, Gyro."