Background: Tilly has been unknowingly poisoned by Meredith and Dazmond. After drinking down the concoction mixed in with her usual order from a local cafe, Tilly dozed off at home and then woke up ill. The poison induced a very early labor, nearly causing a miscarriage. She passed out again in her home after screaming for help, and woke up in the hospital. Obviously the baby (a boy) is going to be very premature, but he will survive. Right now, Tilly is probably going to be a bit crazy/wary toward any law enforcement and even hospital staff. She had planned to deliver at home (with Tulo acting as midwife  !).

Characters Needed: St. Mungo's medical staff, Ministry Law Enforcement, Friends & Family, the stranger who brought her to the hospital, and perhaps a very savvy spy for the poisoners (but maybe that's not a smart idea).

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9PM

Tilly woke with a scratchy throat and swollen skin. Her fingers kneaded at her neck, and despite the cold beads of fever that had broken over her brow, she was shivering. She kicked at the duvet mummifying her into the mattress, and tore away the damp sheets. They fell in an unceremonious heap to the old wooden floor of her flat. The window was ajar, a breeze tickling the curtains. And only the lamp posts outside registered to her senses; how long had she been asleep? How long had the moon been up? Why couldn't she hear anyone down in the alley? The usual chirp of laughter, cafe-side chatter, and window shopping was absent.

The vigor with which she'd freed herself of the constraining bedsheets drained away as she climbed from the safety net. Her hand found the shallow window sill and she let out a sharp breath of pain, grabbing her stomach with the opposite hand. In the reflection of the open panes, she saw her silhouette and something... terribly not right. A shaky hand extended to her mouth; her lips were dry and parched, but caked in something unpleasant, something scarlet. She coughed once, twice, and saw the fresh blood on the back of her hand, clear as the candlelight flooding in from the cobbled streets below.

She clambered for the lamp at her bedside, not having a wand to cast lumos in a pinch. A strike of a match, and one wicker glowed to life, quickly sprouting outward in a spiraled, trippy domino effect, and lighting the other tea candles in the vast, handmade lamp. Dennis had given it to her several Christmases ago.

The room was bathed in a friendly yellow-orange, and Tilly blinked, adjusting to the light. Her eyes were weary, sore like everything else, but she could see just find. And, looking down, she saw it...

The dampness was not just a fever. Blood and water soaked her t-shirt, trailing down her legs to her cotton socks. "No!" She cried in a whisper. "No!" She was louder now. She moved back to the window. Leaning out, she could see people. Their voices came to her, finally. Reality hit her: the cheerfulness of strangers, and her own panic as she realized what was happening to her body. Her eyes began to tear. She'd only laid down for a minute, she'd only wanted a quick nap with Bruce, who had jumped up from the bed and was now whining and pawing and licking her legs with the sort of worried affection that only a dog could offer.

"Somebody help me!" She screamed toward the street. Her voice bounced between the crooked, antique windowscapes, stone walls, oak doors, and rusty chimneys.

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When she came to again, she was back in bed. But it wasn't her bed. It was a firm, narrow mattress, the sheets overly starched. Her head was propped on a sickeningly massive stack of pillows, her hair piled over it like a newly-dry rain cloud. Somehow had been stroking her forehead... a cloth... a hand... warm, fresh dampness, different than the fever dream in which she'd been trapped.

She sat up suddenly, and her head felt woozy. But she didn't care. Her hands scaled down to her tummy, cradling it. It was still swollen, and there was no blood pooling beneath. "What's happened to my baby? Is my baby alright?" She asked, feeling a tremble from deep inside that was definitely not a kick.

Quincy had been beside herself. Finding out that Tilly's labour had been induced early - through no fault of her own - then hearing that it was most likely poison, had sent her head into a daze of questions. What about the baby? What about Tilly? When would she wake up? Would she know what had happened? Would she be in any pain?

Being a healer-in-training meant that she had seen things she didn't even want to think about in this situation. She had the enormous disadvantage of knowing what could happen.

Tilly still wasn't conscious, and Quincy had been led to believe she wouldn't be for quite some time. She had sent Eddie home, looking dishevelled and tired, and insisted that she would stay by Tilly's side until she was awake. Since Tilly was still in a deep slumber, Quincy had decided she would try and shut her own eyes for a while, and it wasn't long before she had dozed in the arm chair by the bed, her hand that had been gripping Tilly's so tightly finally letting go and falling loosely by the side of the chair.

"What's happened to my baby? Is my baby alright?"

Quincy jumped out of the chair like a jack-in-a-box, her eyes wide as though she wasn't sure what was going on. Then her eyes found Tilly's and the elation washed over her like it never had before. "Oh, sweetness!" She grasped Tilly's hand in both of her own and kissed her knuckles. "What are you trying to do to us," she half laughed through her tears as she reached out and felt Tilly's head. It was still clammy and warm, but it certainly wasn't emitting the heat it had been earlier that day.

Perhaps the only force that could hold Aurors at bay were Healers.  Zora Roh stood outside the closed door with her arms crossed and her black hair in a fury around her face.  She was still wearing her sunglasses although indoors because she'd been in too much of a rush to take them off.

Zora had been assigned to the well, honestly, rather boring task of babysitting a muggle and a squib who'd decided it would be really super awesome (Zora's daughter's words) to set up shop in Diagon Alley.  Don't get us wrong here: Zora wasn't prejudiced.  There were places for different sorts of people, that's all, and when you were who you were you were just asking for trouble when you decided to be in certain places.  It wasn't right or just but they were asking for trouble.

And now there was.  Goodie goodie. 

Level Two had gotten only a few details.  Matilda Quinn (the squib, if you're keeping track) is in St. Mungo's and the Healers report the baby is in jeopoardy and they suspect poisoning. 

But they wouldn't let her in.   However a scream reanimated her! The scream came from inside the ward and Zora started pounding on the door right away.  "Aurors! Ineed to speak with Quinn as soon as possible!

"Yeah, well, she'll fecking talk to you when she feels she needs to talk to you."  Dennis had been sitting in a chair a short distance down the hall when the Auror had passed by, his head supported by his hands.  Corby was standing on the opposite side of the hall, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed somewhere on the window. 

He'd never really liked real life much.  Responsibility and the fear that came with it were just not his idea of a good time.  If Dennis could get through his day without taking anything seriously, he considered it a good day. 

Today had not been a good day.  Reality had stepped up and slapped him across the face like an angry ex whose name he'd forgotten.  He'd come with Tilly to St. Mungo's but had, quickly, been shuffled out of the room by the Healers.  He'd been more in the way than anything and he couldn't keep sitting there, watching Tilly and not be able to do anything. 

Dennis scowled at the woman who banged on the door; he knew who she was.  The band was in between albums and tours and, since Tilly had become pregnant, Dennis had stuck close to home.  He'd was a common enough entity at Reducto to become quite familiar with the shop's personal bouncer.  He'd never been a fan of the Auror office (some of Three Owl's early, punchier numbers didn't speak very kindly of Level 2); too many years filled with too much bitterness and animosity towards the Ministry clouded whatever perception he had of that office.  Years of unresolved grief had found an easy scapegoat, aided by the long standing, mutually-recognized feud between law enforcement and rock stars. 

"Piss off."  Dennis pushed himself to his feet and started down the hall towards Roh.  "You've had four months to talk to her.  What?  Does it actually matter now?" 

Quincy. Like a pretty guardian angel, the woman loomed overhead, blocking the annoying fluorescent hospital light, turning it into a soft halo of sorts. Tilly felt her lungs begin to work again; suddenly, she was taking her first breath in what felt like eons. She blinked, and her own eyes reflected the tears in her friend's. "Quince..." She murmured, squeezing the hands that cradled her own, attempting to swim against the tide and get herself in working order.

But it didn't last.

Tilly's face fell, and any amount of relief that had washed over her light features for a half a moment dissolved into further upset, frustration, desperation. She saw Quincy's own protruding tummy, nearly at full term now, and felt a pang of guilt and dread. "Where's the baby?!" She asked frantically, her voice feeling dusty, unused. Her throat was dry, and crackled with strange, post-hibernation electricity as she attempted to project her words at any and all who might hear her.

The pains in her tummy were not the same as before. They were not as sharp, but they had spread. She ached, throbbing, terrible aches that belonged to a woman with twice her life experience. She cringed at the sudden pounding on the door, and somewhere in the chaos, made out Roh's distinctive, authoritative intonation.

And then there was another voice...

"Dennis!"

She sat up, ignoring the pain, and her hair spilled all about her as she craned to find the door. "Let him in!" She demanded, and a nurse at the opposite end of the room, who had been rushing toward her, only just not realizing that she was alive and well, stopped, utterly bewildered, in her tracks. "Let. Him. In." She repeated, none too kindly. She'd suddenly become someone else.

If they weren't going to tell her where her baby was, perhaps Dennis knew. The baby was his, too, after all.

But the hospital-prison staff weren't so pulpy as she'd hoped. With only Quincy there to save their collective reputation, they headed straight for Tilly, promising to poke and prod her back into a sleep.

"DENNIS!" She screamed, jerking her arm away from a man with a needle full of lullabies. His face told Tilly that he knew even less about her state than she did.

The man had gotten the memo. He lowered his weapon, that dreaded shot of who-knew-what, and reluctantly nodded at the door in that sighing parent sort of way. Someone unlocked it, and braced themselves, swinging it open a timid crack, and then a bit wider.

Tilly looked round for Dennis, and then turned on the man. "And our baby? What happened-- please-- tell me it's--" It? He? She? They hadn't even figured it out yet. They'd wanted it to be a surprise, and now the surprise may not have come. Wouldn't come. Ever.

The man raised his other hands, beckoning forth someone she couldn't see, perhaps the Grim Reaper himself, and Tilly braced herself, palms flattening into the starchy hospital sheets.

But instead it was another nurse, a kind-faced, gingery woman whom Tilly took an immediate liking to, if only for the tiny bundle of blankets she was wheeling forth in a magically incubated cot. Tilly's heart did somersaults and she let out a loud breath of torment and solace. She roamed the room for Dennis, for Quincy, for reassurance and miracles.

Tilly was still groggy, her eyes trying to focus on things happening around the room, but her mind constantly searching for the one thing she wanted to know was safe. Quincy was just about to put the young woman's mind at rest about her baby, but as she opened her mouth there was a pounding on the door. Dennis Creevey's voice could be heard from outside, exclaiming profanities at the auror who had positioned herself outside the room all night, just in case Tilly had come to.

Quincy scowled at the door as Tilly started yelling for Dennis. The last thing she needed was a holier-than-thou auror snooping around when she was clearly in no fit state to answer any questions. But worse was to come - one of the healers began advancing towards Tilly with a syringe, an attempt to sedate her. "No!" Quincy's single word echoed slightly in the airy room, a stern, condemning hiss that lacked the intonation of normal conversation. The healer had progressed closer to Tilly's aching body, and Quincy's arm shot out like a natural refelx, an impulse that she could not control. "She doesn't need that, and you know it!"

The man backed away slightly, and his withdrawal was followed by an almost fed-up nod to the door, indicating that Dennis' company could be had. It was awful - watching the colour drain from Tilly's face as she asked once more about her baby. Quincy felt Tilly's hands grip the white sheets underneath her own, as a nurse came forward wheeling in a tiny little thing swathed in blankets.

The breath of relief that escaped Tilly's lungs was quickly followed by her eyes, searching for Quincy and Dennis, hoping that what she was seeing was reality and not some sick nightmare. Quincy's eyes crinkled slightly at the sides and she nodded, squeezing Tilly's hand once more for reassurance. He'd been for a rough ride, but the baby was a fighter - like his mum.

Hippie! 

Zora's eyes snapped towards the celebrity musician who'd also been banished from Quinn's side.  He hadn't been around much towards the beginning, but he'd been plenty present around Reducto lately, always ready with some flippant this-or-that.  Anti-establishment was so fashionable wasn't it? So bloody easy, wasn't it? If Zora had been cursed with an Evil Eye, he'd have been dead as stone. 

She wasn't going to argue with him, the cottonbrain.  She'd been assigned to protect Quinn and Schlagenweit, not placate some infant crybaby singer songwriter.  (God, her daughter could not shut up about Three Owl Standard...!   Half her letters home begged for some bit of information about the expecting musician or if she'd heard something new, of if she could get her an autograph.) 

So she gave the musician a look that could petrify and turned back to the door.  Behind it, there was more screaming, more shuffling, and finally it creaked open slowly.  Instantly Creevey was on the move, and Zora right after him, her red robes snapping.

"I need a few questions answered," she declared again.  "I need a status on Ms Quinn and her baby." 

Level Two was still in the dark about the condition of their protectee and the child she was carrying. Would Zora be investigating a poisoning or a murder? 

At the sound of his name, the Auror and her power-hungry faces were quickly forgotten.  "I'm here."  Dennis moved forward, brushing past the woman and putting his weight against the door that had been opened a crack.  He scanned the room, his eyes darting over the handful of less important blokes until they settled on Tilly. 

She still looked ... ill ... but she was awake.  An important and undeniable improvement over the way things were before.  Except ... she was asking about the baby.  Who wasn't there. 

Dennis turned towards the doctor, his panicked and uncertain expression that mimicked, wordlessly, Tilly's question.  "Tell us what's going on.  Please.  Is she - are they going to be alright?  I just- can we have some answers?" 

Could they have some answers.  Not the bleeding, meddling law enforcement.  "You need a status?" he half-laughed, half-barked at the woman.  Like it was some food order.  The status.  Already, a spiteful revenge song was brewing in the back of his head.  "Shall I wait outside until your done with your protocol paperwork?  Wouldn't want to miss crossing any bloody Ts now would we?"  In six months time, so help him, teens all across wizarding Britain were going to be belting lyrics about some red-tape pushing auror named Laura Toh.  Zopa Moe? 

Tilly looked back at Quincy, whom she could have snogged for all intents and purposes. That is, if her lover and the father of the bundle of blankets weren't outside the door, fighting to beat an auror to the bedside. Ah, aurors. Zora Roh had not given up, Tilly would give her that. She'd been sniffing around Reducto and trying to protect (a matter of opinion, if ever there had been one in a shop full of music) the squib and the muggle. Up until yesterday, even, Tilly had heard news of the Ministry ants swarming round Jacoba as she manned the forts.

And it had done heaps of good, she thought, bitterly.

But the thought brought a pang of guilt as her eyes settled on the tiny, charmed cot on wheels. Her baby. Their baby. There were some things more important than giving a finger to the prejudice creeps in the alley, or rolling ones eyes at the Law Enforcement who tried to heroically insert themselves in the centuries-old conflict.

Holding Dennis' hand, she let out another cry of relief. He seemed so occupied with protecting her that he hadn't even noticed the little cot-- which, given the size of the thing inside, was admittedly hard to miss.

"It's ok," she said softly, trying to sooth him before he went into an Epic Rockstar Mode, joining the ranks of the usual tabloid fodder. (Which, really, was nothing new, with the number of reporters who trailed him on a regular basis, ignoring his rather down-to-earth and private demeanor.) "Ignore her," she offered, and then caught Roh's eye, lingering for less than a moment of loathing, before looking back the blankets in the wizarding-style incubator. "It's not worth your breath today."

She wasn't going to let the woman's bureaucratic duties stand in the way of the most important day of their lives. Then, again... "You can quote him on that," she added a bit sardonically, sitting up a little and tossing a weary word in the auror's direction. She must have badgered poor Jacoba half the night, Tilly imagined. Even if the squib's distaste was uncalled for, unfair... even if the woman was only there to help... she couldn't stop the feelings of mistrust from bubbling round her sore tummy. Her family had had one too many unlucky occurrences with the Ministry for her to place any faith in them, and Dennis undoubtedly had an even longer history with their shaky government.

A nurse finally cut between the bedside tension, taking the blankets from the mobile crib and gingerly handing them to Tilly.

"A boy," said the woman. "Less than a kilogram, but healthy and happy to be here," she added warmly, apparently not minding the doctors' cautions any more than Quincy had. "Whatever they put in you, it didn't get to him. It only brought him out a little early," she humored.

He might have been all of two pounds, or not even, but to Tilly he was like a warm stone, grounding her into place, holding her down exactly where she belonged: here, with him, and Dennis. Her eyes became wet, having hardly dried, and she looked up at Dennis and laughed. "A boy." She leaned over, hair falling around the tiny cheeks and closed eyes, and kissed his forehead, once, twice, three times. Then she held up toward his father, whose musician's hands looked about the same size as the tiny bundle of life himself.

"They're just questions!" she shouted in exasperation over the din and bustle.  Spoiled rockstar child!  She wasn't here to arrest anyone, she was here to investigate a crime on his wife and child!  She was here to help!  For Merlin's sake!  And then an Evil Eye from the mum!  Of all the ungrateful...! Zora had half a mind to scupper the whole mess and leave the lot of them to whatever wolves were after them!  They fancied being poisoned again? They enjoy having rocks and glass salad? Or maybe they just liked the attention.

Even the Healers weren't paying attention, the nurses fussing over the baby and the new mum.  They could fuss all they wanted, but she was a gods-damned Auror here investigating an attempted murder!

"Don't think I won't arrest someone - a crime was committed and I'm going to get some answers now!  And I don't bloody care who answers them."  She reached into her robes and by all intents and purposes she could have very well been drawing her wand to make good on her threat.

But instead out came a tiny quill and a notepad.

"Now," she started, liked her thumb and flipped page.  "The lad's survived and unharmed.  What about mum? Have the Healers found any poison? When was the last time mum ate or drank anything? Anything suspicious these last few weeks?" she went through a few questions quickly, glaring pointedly from person to person in turn. 

"Speak up."

Quincy was beginning to get pissed off. Maybe it was because Tilly's Valentine's day had become one of horror as the birth of her baby had been induced far too early. Maybe it was that she and Eddie had hit a rock once more, and were finding it difficult to get past it. This Zora Roh encompassed everything about aurors that Quincy hated: impertinence, arrogance and an inability to not be at the forefront of every saga. Quincy rolled her eyes. No wonder she had drifted so far apart from Eddie. She didn't want to bring up another baby in the battlefield that was their family home. Instinctively her hand touched her belly.

As Tilly and Dennis were introduced to their baby boy, Quincy's eyes swam with tears of pride. Tilly was so young, though perhaps not as naive as Quincy had once assumed. She had proven, in those last few hours, that she was more than capable of supporting not only herself but an infant. To top it all off, she was giving the auror sass. Quincy smirked, and had to refrain from adding a "Ha!", though the image of the auror's expression in her head would have been well worth it.

It might have been her hormones, but something in Quincy snapped when the auror continued to rabbit on about needing answers. "I'll give you some information; Bugger off and leave them for a little while to enjoy their miracle! You can ask your questions later. Does she look like she's in any fit state to answer anything?" Her eyes darted down to Tilly, still clearly groggy and exhausted, but the look of elation and the glow on her cheeks was unmistakable.

"It?"  Dennis repeated, glancing from Tilly to Quincy with a beseeching look of confusion.  Why were they saying it?  Didn't that contradict the ok part?  Had something gone wrong?  He followed Tilly's glance towards the bundle of blankets and stared at ... yes, it.  Blindly, without removing he sought Tilly's hand with one of his own and gave it a squeeze before stepping away from the bed and crossing the room to the blankets. 

How was it that something so small and helpless could make a grown man feel so ... intimidated?  Of course, the thing had been intimidating Dennis for months now and it hadn't really existed before.  Well, it existed just not in the obvious, here-I-am-see-me sense.  He passed his fingers through his mop of blonde hair as he stepped up to the side of the table and looked down at the child.  His child. 

His son. 

His eyes still as wide as if they'd just witness a mesmerizing, death defying act, he watched as the nurse gathered up the tiny person and carried it over to Tilly.  He followed in their wake, back to Tilly's side and peered down at the two of them. 

Dear heavens.  What had he gotten himself into?  And, how ... why so soon?  He thought he had several months to get prepared!  Dennis had never been one to study ahead of time for tests.  If there was an examination in 20 minutes, that just meant he had ten more minutes to goof off before reevaluating how much time he had left to prepare.  Sure, he'd gone through all the getting the second bedroom ready and that other stuff - but that had, really, been more for Tilly than the baby.  That was like buying the textbooks to give the professors the impression he was preparing for examinations. 

"He's fine?  But, he's so small?"  Dennis said, looking across at Quincy, the shell shocked look not fading in the slightest.  When he turned back to Tilly, she was holding the blankets up towards him.  "Feckin' eh," he breathed as he reached his arms out, tentatively taking the bundle from her.  From the child's mother.  From the mother of his child. 

He was vaguely aware of questions from the Auror but they barely registered - every thought had become fixed on the one, simple fact: he was a father.  He was responsible for this being in a way he'd never been responsible to or for anyone before.  And, being responsible meant protecting - and that meant making sure whoever had tried to kill their child was kept from being able to take another crack at it. 

"The sooner you answer the questions, the sooner they'll get the bastard out of reach of him."  In fact, it would be ideal if they could do so before they left the safety of the hospital. 

Tilly flinched, ready to rear her head at the first person who dared arrest anyone in this room. The nerve... if Tilly had had a wand...

But even as she inwardly agreed with what Quincy was saying-- dear Quincy, ever the protective and unafraid-to-speak-her-mind sort of friend-- it was the look in Dennis' eyes, the promise of revenge in his throat that caught her attention. She eyed him long and carefully, felt a chill run up her overly nursed spine as she watched him fit his son between two open palms.

She nodded in a small way. "No, right-- you're right," she murmured in agreement, lending her own voice to his harsh chorus. She didn't want the moment to end, the miracle of Dennis holding their baby, a little thing full of life and energy, but she knew it might if someone didn't act fast. The last thing she wanted was for Dennis to have to fight a new war. Another war. To lose anyone else. And by the look in his eyes as he stared at the baby... well, Tilly hadn't seen quite that same look before. It was lovely, brilliant, and a little bit unnerving. The look of a parent. She suddenly knew what it meant.

She gave him a sad smile, and blindly reached out to squeeze Quincy's hand before catching the auror's eye. She loathed to look away from the picture of her lover and their son, to desert the once-in-a-lifetime feeling and replace it with something far less pleasant, but she supposed it had to be done.

She took a deep breath and reached for the cool cup of water they'd left near her hospital cot. "I'm sorry-- I just. This is not how this was supposed to happen." She took a sip before continuing, sitting up a little with a slight cringe. Her eyes flitted every so often to her son, a wisp of baby-soft skin and sleepy pink-lidded eyes beneath a swathing of thick cloth. "I don't know what happened," she admitted. "I... my day was so normal. I did everything I always do. But when I got in from running errands and taking the dog for a walk, I was very tired. I figured it was from..." She nodded toward the baby, and looked down at her belly, patting the place where he'd been, where he should still have been. "When I woke up, it was near dark. I was out for hours. I mightn't have even woke, but I felt... just so ill. And the dog seemed to know something was wrong." In that way animals just knew. Tilly felt a new chill on her brow. She held back a shudder. "I tried to stand up, but there was an awful pain. I realized I was bleeding and... I thought I was miscarrying," she explained, sounding something like a ghost. Removed. Unbelieving. "I got to the window and just screamed and screamed. " It had seemed like the best idea at the time. "And then I woke up here. In the poison ward."

It wasn't an answer, not really. More a recounting, a way to reassure herself of... what? Something had clearly happened. She tried a new approach, she tried to be a bit more specific. "I didn't eat anything weird. Not even for a pregnant lady." She couldn't help a small laugh at that. Her eyes had roamed, but she finally looked at the auror again, willing her to understand. "I've been working lately, but not too much. I have lots of help around the shop, as you'll know. Jacoba's been very good to us. The only thing I can think... the only thing different..." She shook her head. It made no sense. "I was at the concert at the school yesterday. But that..." She winced. "It was all kids and professors."

A few more moments passed, chock full of a whole lot of Not Answering Questions, including some sass from one of the Healers.  Merlins' Wrinkled Brain, was she new here? Zora's nostrils flared as she did her absolute best to keep her temper with this civilians.  The last thing she needed was another meeting from Raynor.  Although heaven forbid she be removed from this very exciting case.  She rubbed the aching place between her eyes and when she looked up she was almost startled to see Matilda Quinn's face pointed her way, with the mouth moving. 

With a superior look, Zora listened on, with hmms, and umhmms as she made notes.  It wasn't exactly what she'd asked for, but it was a whole hell of a lot better than the crup crap she'd been getting before.  At least now they had a timeline.  The nerds at Level Two could work up some kind of potions profile from the symptoms and how quick it acted to at least narrow it down.   Then they could start dredging the nets in the blackmarket and find out what sleezeball is peddling that brand of nasty.

Once the Healers had more time, the Aurors would receive a report from them as well.  And maybe once the Mother & Father Bear turned back into humans, in a few days, they could come back with some follow up questions. 

With a sharp release of breath, Zora punctuated her final thought, and looked up at the happy family.  A false smile broke out on her face, and she didn't hold back.  "Good girl.  Wasn't so hard, that."

She turned to leave and on her way out, she muttered, "Congratulations.  Keep him close."