She feels restless in the morning as she soothes her tiny infant. It is evident that they must vacate the four walls of her room, and join the others. Hecate manages to apply make-up for the first time in a week. As she feeds her daughter she attempts to select something from her wardrobe. She has utterly no desire to be secured in stiff, unmovable garments. She considers this would be an opportune time to have a wardrobe that mirrors Dimity Drill's.
She carefully considers her intentions for the field trip. She plans to attend breakfast, and get the infinite rounds of introductions out of the way. She has no intention of instructing anyone. She manages to apply a pair of black pants with one free hand. Her daughter is undeterred from her task as Hecate attempts to find an appropriate blouse for the ensemble. As if on cue a t-shirt topples from the shelf of her wardrobe.
In all of the chaos that is now her life she has completely forgotten about having such a t-shirt. After attending to burping Zephyra the infant is content to watch the mobile above her basinet, at least momentarily. Hecate shoots a look at her.
"You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you?"
The motor on the mobile halts at that very moment. Hecate is too busy dressing herself to wind it. She expects little miss to begin crying immediately. The newborn sets her sights on the mobile, staring intently. With no warning, or assistance from Hecate the mobile begins to spin again. Zephyra coos in response.
"I do not feel appropriately attired. A vintage Guns N Roses that belonged to your father is hardly professional." The newborn offers no constructive feedback on the matter. Her gaze is affixed to Hecate as she frees her from her baby prison.
"For the record, young lady we will be transferring to the dining room. I do not feel compelled to climb endless flights of stairs with you," as she studies the beautiful dark haired infant in her arms her mind wanders to the first time she donned Cameron's vintage t-shirt.
The fresh fruit at the bottom of her bowl grows impatient as she absentmindedly pushes it from one side to the other with her fork. For some inexplicable reason she finds herself sitting across from the utterly incorrigible character she's danced with the previous evening. She cringes as he gulps his orange juice with visible pulp floating atop the glass. He shoots her a devilish smile only to reveal his dimples.
He gently grazes her hand with his finger.
"Are you going to eat that, or are you just going to continue unapologetically ogling me?"
She momentarily casts her eyes downward. The honeydew at the bottom of her bowl greets her. Her eyes flick upward, and she meets his gaze.
"I despise honeydew."
"More or less than you despise me?"
"I have agreed to join you this morning for breakfast. The answer to that inquiry is self-evident."
"At some point we are going to have to go to bed."
Her face draws taught, and her eyes widen, "I beg your pardon?"
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Hecate. I simply meant that we will have to sleep at some point. We were out all night. I knew you couldn't resist my dancing."
"I am out of my gourd," she responds.
He flashes her a megawatt smile, "Why else would you be slumming it with me?"
She gives the response serious pause. He is the furthest thing from her type, and yet she finds herself utterly intrigued.
"I'm only in it for the vintage t-shirt."
"It really is a shame the waiter dumped water all over you."
"Almost as if it was planned."
He rolls his eyes, "I had nothing to do with it. I'm not deeply upset by it though."
"That is rather impolite."
He grins, "You look good in my t-shirt."
The black vintage band t-shirt is tied on one side.
"Or are you simply jumping at the chance to be shirtless?"
"You hardly seemed offended by my semi-nude state."
"My tolerance for your utter disregard for general decorum grows with each passing moment."
"If I didn't know better I would almost think you were trying to seduce me."
As she transfers to the dining room with her small human in tow she dreads the overwhelming swarm of pupils that is to be expected. She materializes in the dining room sans baby. Panic washes over her in an instant. Across the dining room Mildred Hubble is preparing to shovel a bit of porridge into her mouth when a newborn baby appears in the crook of her arm. She drops her spoon, but maintains a firm grasp on the infant. With a content look the little one gazes up at her.
"I see you continue to engage in shenanigans. You have certainly given your mum a fright, mistress."
Enid sits to Mildred's immediate left. She gently nudges Mildred.
"I would suggest you produce this little nugget before her mother's head detaches from its body."
Mildred reluctantly rises from her seat, "Miss Hardbroom?"
Hecate meets her glance. Much to her dismay she finds Mildred Hubble holding her infant daughter. Like the flicker of a candle she appears before the worst witch.
"I believe this belongs to you," Mildred returns the little girl to HB.
Hecate casts fixes her gaze on Zephyra who now rests in her arms, "Must you insist on harassing Mildred Hubble?"
Her daughter offers an answer as she disappears from her arms. At the head of the dining room Ada suddenly finds her hands very full. She grins at the mischievous Cackles resident.
"You're going to give her a run for her money, aren't you?"