Hecate returns to her quarters after the meeting feeling utterly confused, and emotionally drained. She is envisaging her next move, in which fleeing is in the running, when a knock at her door catches her attention. In an effort to appear composed she trades the wearied look on her face for a more neutral resting witch face.

"Enter."

Pippa enters the room, and closes the portal behind herself. Her arms rest at her sides as she studies her former classmate.

"This is certainly a hiccup," Pippa offers as an opening.

"I wasn't even slated to attend the now infamous event."

"There has been no mention of the situation here at Cackles. I hadn't the slightest inclination."

"Our deliberations concluded in the decision not to disclose."

"I understand the desire for privacy. Some days I feel as if I am the posterchild for all of this."

"How are you coping with all of this?" Hecate asks a human question.

"Not well, quite frankly. I find myself struggling to maintain my composure. Yesterday I had to excuse myself from staffing whilst I vanished into a closet to hyperventilate."

"Anxiety seems like a natural response, given the situation at hand."

"You don't seem rattled."

"Appearances aren't everything," Hecate reminds her.

"There is just so much to worry about. I find myself on this merry-go-round of intrusive thinking. My mind loves to play out all of the scenarios that could possibly go wrong."

"What about the one thing that went right?"

Pippa furrows her brow, "I find myself grappling to find anything that has gone right."

"Your son, or daughter, will be fortunate to have you as their mother."

"I can't entirely support that sentiment."

"Every single day you nurture young people to rise to their potential, even the ones deemed lost causes. I can't imagine that you would offer anything less to your own child."

"I fear that my implicit bias on the subject will render me ineffective in the role."

"Do you have any recollection for the event which led to the conception of your impending arrival?"

"You know that I don't."

"Then dismiss it as a factor."

"I don't know if I can," Pippa admits.

"I was certain that I couldn't. I never intend to see any of this through. I have never had the burning desire to beget a child. My cynicism about the state of the world, the state of the craft, and ultimately about myself prevented me from ever seriously contemplating the notion. When I arrived at the initial appointment I was steadfast in my resolution to terminate such a catastrophic injustice that had been thrust upon me."

"What changed?"

"Apparently, I did. Suddenly I was looking at some lima bean-esque character which had implanted into my uterus, and inexplicably there was nothing in the entire world that I wanted more. I am not proud to admit such a lack of emotional control, but I sat in that room blubbering."

"The same Hecate that used to get called Hecate Hardhearted, by our peers?"

"Proving that my heart is not in fact made of stone."

Pippa grins, "You aren't a gargoyle?"

"I certainly feel like one every single time I make the trek to that ridiculous medical building for an appointment."

"We are what the pregnancy world considers geriatric," Pippa notes.

"The seasoned life experiences offer plenty of preparatory material for the task at hand."

"I feel quite ill-prepared, myself. I haven't even begun to research the appropriate gear. I haven't begun a list of names, or even watched the suggested internet material on swaddling. I've hardly managed to clear out a single shelf in my closet."

"Do you know the gender?"

"It is in an envelope in my desk drawer. I find the task of opening it utterly daunting."

"Do you have a preference?"

"I am supposed to say no."

Hecate offers a signature expression, "I am not going to judge you for having a preference. I would prefer not to be seventeen months pregnant as I rapidly approach my half-century mark, but alas that is the situation at hand."

"I want a daughter. Boys are…"

"Not pink?"

"Less refined," Pippa offers, "What about you?"

Hecate shrugs, "I haven't a clue."

Pippa furrows her brow, "I can't imagine you choosing to wait until birth. Is that the traditionalist side of you? I certainly would have expected the insufferably impatient side of you to win out."

"In true Hardbroom fashion my unborn progeny remains determined to engage in utterly obstinate behavior."

"The genetic testing results include gender."

"I opted out."

"You opted out of genetic testing? Isn't that risky? I mean…"

Hecate cuts her off, "A genetic test will not sway my decision. My decision to carry out this task is not contingent on the results of a genetic test. If any of this were contingent on genetics we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"What if your child is born with some irreversible disability? What if you have to sacrifice…"

Hecate stops her in her tracks, "It is not a sacrifice to carry out the commitment of parenthood that you make when you choose to bring a child into the world. The sacrifice would be refusing to offer a fair opportunity to your own flesh and blood, because they are different."

"Well-said. I should set aside my preconceived notions, and accept things as they are."

"That concept will save you a lot of heartache."

"You are the last person that I ever anticipated such advice from."

"I could blame age, or wisdom. In reality there is a possibility that it is nothing more than the surge of hormones that are currently cascading through my body."