👂 👃 for minerva, gabby, sydney, javeen please 🥰 (~agentnatesewell)
Ooh I've answered the smell one already : D But not the voices so I'll answer that~
👂 : Does your OC have an attractive voice?
Minerva: Oh yes, it's very pleasant. She has a sultry voice like Phryne Fisher, and I tried very hard to find a video to show it off that wasn't a music video but no success lol. Highly recommend just watching Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries if you haven't already, Minerva was greatly inspired by Phryne :)
Gabby: Hmm, not really LOL. I don't want to be mean, but her voice is quiet, has a touch of gravel, or straight up creepy and monotone if she's in that Mood. It's okay, she has a lot of other great qualities. Like freaky eyes and semi- translucent skin!!
Sydney: Yes, her voice is attractive for sure! She has a spanish accent, more high pitched, but smooth as well. I think it's very comforting when it needs to be, but can cause shivers when whispered in an ear.
Javeen: YES it is deep and so heart-melty, and she does absolutely nothing to make it so swoon worthy, she just has to say words and it's like how does she not know what she does?? It's just so calm and protective, yet stoic in a way that makes you want to know her really well?
Hi, Minerva! What is your ideal vacation, where would you go and what would you do? (bonus who would you take with you?) 🥰 (~agentnatesewell)
Minerva smiles, sighing as she tilts her head.
"What a lovely question. To be honest, I was going to say I'd like to visit Russia where my father is from, but...hm probably not the best idea right now. I would still love to visit a place of slavic root-- like the Czech Republic or Poland. I also hear that Slovenia is very beautiful." She laughs. "As for activities, who could deny the view of old castles and half-naked statues?" She takes a sip of her wine, that she obviously has. "My ideal vacation is somewhere warm, beautiful, with interesting people. So basically, the only place I would not willingly go is Antarctica."
"Any who wishes to come is certainly welcome...but if I had to choose, I would have to pick Tina. She has perfected the party-girl persona and would be the best to travel with." She winks. "And if we get arrested, she is detective now so she could easily bail us out."
ok, this one is a stretch, I didn't exactly focus on the prompt part, just wrote a scene and kinda just shoved the prompt haphazardly to fit it in but the whole scene makes me laugh so eh!
@agentnatesewell
any sort of whisper. anywhere. goddamn.
The night was cool and darker tonight, a sudden sweep of clouds marking a potential storm incoming. Minerva switched on her blinkers as she began to pull out of the driveway, and the passenger already passed a silent judgment on her driving skills. Adam, who prided himself on his cars and driving, folded his beefy arms across his chest, a quiet sigh deflating it. Of course he wanted to drive, but then that would mean driving her car. And as far as Unit Bravo was concerned, her car was a bomb waiting to explode.
Because they were babies.
Sure, it wasn’t the fanciest, and yes the paint in some places were chipped, and okay sure, there was a small leak in the oil tank but until the Agency handed her a cheque of at least twenty thousand dollars bonus and a thank you, this was what she had to work with. Yet he annoyingly twitched every time she changed a lane, or brought the car to a stop.
“Would you stop fidgeting?” she snapped. “God, you’d think I was driving a missile, the way you fret every time I drive.”
Adam pursed his lips. “That is not far off of reality.”
“Oh, leave off. Even if I did crash the car right now, you’d walk away just fine, if a little bruised.”
His head turned ever so slightly, eyes hidden behind the aviators. “I don’t worry about my well being when you drive this...vehicle.”
She sighed. “I know, I know. By all means, darling, you can spend a few thousand tuning it up for me.”
He chuckled. “That is not a terrible idea.”
Before she could insist that he not spend that much money on her, a small, yellow blob caught her eye in the distance. She would know that blob anywhere. She pressed the break and signalled, pulling up at the side of the road.
“What is it?” Adam asked, alarmed at the sudden stop.
“I saw an old friend,” she answered quickly, checking for cars before opening her door. “A slippery fellow.”
He followed her out the car, as she crossed the street. “By friend...you mean criminal?”
“Oh yes. He’s quite the Houdini.”
Adam did that thing where he got ready for a fight, or a chase. Ready for a hunt. Well, she was glad he was so spirited. Who knows, maybe she would need his vampire speed to catch this guy again.
They turned into the alley, and she scanned for the tell tale sound of--
A tiny, squeaky bark came from the dumpster. She lifted the top, nose crinkling at the immediate smell. She pushed the lid all the way back, reached in, and pulled out a Pomeranian mix with a big doofy smile.
She held him up for all his tiny glory. “Adam, meet Chestnut. Chestnut, Adam.”
Adam was silent, brow furrowed in utter confusion. “...a dog?”
“How dare you, this was my greatest case,” Minerva replied. “Remember that cute drawing I got from a very satisfied citizen? I got that after I found this deadly criminal hiding in an albeit broken down vending machine past its prime.” She raised Chestnut up. “His crime? Eating too many chips and running away from home unsupervised.”
Finally, he laughed, though he tried his damnedest to stop it before it came out. “I see. A repeat offender.”
His smile was cut off when she (gently) shoved the little dog into his chest. He almost dropped poor Chestnut before getting a proper grip on the wiggly menace. “Indeed he is. Now to take him back home. Come on.”
She ignored his grumbles as they made it back to the car and got in. She was grinning the whole way to Chestnut’s house because of how goddamn cute it was to see big buff with aviators Adam with a fluffy, stinky, big eyed puppy in his lap.
They walked up the driveway that was lit up with two rows of fairy lights all the way to the front door. Chestnut of course was excited to be back home, so he squirmed and wiggled like a worm in Adam’s arms, as Minerva knocked on the door.
Suddenly, Adam’s mouth was next to her ear, and a shiver was sent down her spine as he whispered, “Why am I holding the dog?”
“You’ll see,” was all she said, having to recover. Her neck and shoulders prickled with goosebumps. His voice was that deep.
The door opened and Chestnut’s owner squealed in delight at her missing dog being returned safe and sound, if smelly. “Oh, Miss Ivanokovich! Thank you so much! You saved our little family member again. Sarah will be so happy.”
“Mm,” Minerva hummed, smiling. “And how is Sarah?”
“Oh very well, miss. She’s at soccer practice right now.”
“Well, tell her I said hello.”
“I will!” She eyed Adam up and down, a flush running down her neck. “Oh, um, thank you sir.” She reached for Chestnut, which he happily handed to her.
“Until next time,” Minerva winked as she waved goodbye. They made their way back to her car, and Adam leaned his head closer to her.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh.” She opened the driver’s seat. “Because Chestnut sheds like crazy.”
His displeased groan could be heard from miles away.
This I wrote in 20 minutes before bed, so I don't know how good it is lol. Enjoyyyyy @agentnatesewell
their bodies accidentally pressed together - being stuck in a small space, falling onto one another, or having to sit really close together. the pause when it's realized.
Minerva:
This was not the training she was used to.
The distant whirrs of paint pellets flying across the arena, overcast with clouds that threatened to pour rain at any time. Minerva suspected this was simply the Agency’s excuse to have a fun day with paintball, by calling it “training.” That way they could uphold their serious persona. Minerva sighed. She loaded her paintball gun with a fresh ball, alone behind a wooden barrier in an empty area—or so she thought. Her human hearing couldn’t determine if there were any hidden assassins waiting for her to move.
She frowned at her outfit. A tight black tank top and—ugh, camo cargo pants. She wasn’t allowed to participate in her usual pencil skirt or long black dresses. Though in real life, she would be wearing the clothes she owned in a scenario like this. The added discomfort of not wearing something she liked was distracting enough, that she did not see the sneaky someone closing in on her. The paintball gun in their hands raised, pointed, finger brushing the trigger. And--
“Minerva!”
A shout from behind her. Suddenly there was a PANG! sound, accompanied by a groan of frustration. Adam, who was far into his element, slid beside her behind the barrier, already reloading his paintball with the speed of an expert.
“You alright?” he panted, his eyes hidden by the aviators.
“I am paint free,” Minerva said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He took these things way too seriously. It was charming in its own way most of the time, but since this was a group activity, his resolute need to win was overbearing. He already yelled at Morgan for basically getting hit on purpose so she could skip the activity all together. She was a genius at times.
Just as suddenly as his appearance, a barrage of paint hit the barricade. Both she and Adam huddled behind it, realizing it was nearly too small to protect both of them at the same time. They were surrounded; bullets coming from all angles in front of them. Any movement resulted in another blast of brightly coloured paint. They were stuck.
“Damn,” he growled. “Surrounded.”
It really bothered him. He was far too distracted to notice their legs rubbing up against each other from the proximity, or the fast they were pretty much shoulder-to-shoulder. She enjoyed the contact a little too much, but she could see in his tight expression his dilemma; surely if they tried to go out in a blaze of glory, they’d take out a few and be taken out in the process. He hated losing competitions more than anything (from her perspective at least), so as much as she was enjoying playing footsie with his limbs, it wasn’t as fun if he wasn’t paying attention.
But how to win without getting hit? That was the question. It seemed they needed a distraction, so Adam could have a second to shoot while they were busy.
And boy, did she ever have an idea.
“Okay, I’m going to distract them, and while they unload you’ll need to take them out quick.”
“What do you mea- what are you doing.”
She smirked at the way his voice caught in his throat as she took off her tank top, revealing a nice lace undergarment that was in no way appropriate for this activity. Before he could fully protest (and she noted with a grin his fully reddened cheeks and neck), she draped the tank top onto her gun, nodding to him to get ready. He understood the plan, nodding in return. His embarrassment gone in the face of a thought out strategy.
Good boy, she thought. Then she used the tank top as a dummy to shoot at, from the safety of the barrier.
She flinched as the tank top was flooded with bullets, spraying like a kaleidoscope and forever marking it as tye-dye as opposed to black. In the few seconds their enemies realized they hadn’t hit anyone, Adam got on one knee and braced his gun against the wood of the barricade, opening fire. Blam, blam, blam!
“Aw, man! You suck Unit Bravo!!”
“Try not to be sore losers, darlings!” Minerva laughed, waving the deafeated away with a casual hand.
She turned to him. “Well done, that was very--”
Her voice died in her throat from the sudden display of muscle. His grey tee shirt removed in a flash and pushed into her chest as quickly as it took for him to shoot all the other team. He refused to make eye contact, even with the protection of his aviators.
She chuckled. “What, can’t handle a little skin?”
“Please put the shirt on, Minerva.”
“Oh please, I do my best work in a brassier.”
“Please put the shirt on Minerva.”
She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Oh, fine.”
At the end of the game, Unit Bravo having neatly gotten first place (Unit Alpha had missed this because of a mission), the Agency personnel running the game gave Adam a look.
💌 👙 for your detectives, please! minerva, gabby, sydney, javeen 🥰 (~agentnatesewell)
💌
Minerva: I think Minerva would have a very basic outline of what kind of date it is (is it dinner, is it a walk in the park, is it chill at home) that has room to be whimsical and off the plan. Likes a little spice ;) She will crash an opera if she must
Sydney: Whereas Sydney wants a solid plan. She will plan specific activities for a specific date (like a date at the roller skate park or w/e will have rollerskating and pizza). She wants to get everything she can out of a well thought out plan!
Gabby: I don't think she plans at all lol. It's a 50-50 shot of her realizing it's a date. If she was asking, she'd probably only really say "want to go for a walk" or "want to watch a movie" and not think about it beyond that.
Javeen: She's definitely a follower for this kind of thing. She doesn't really know what others might find fun. She may grumble about activities she doesn't really get (like boba tea. what's the point of the tapioca). But she's very skilled so if you set up a golf date she'll for sure leave you in the dust
👙
Minerva: You know my girl is always sporting a black lace combo and it's fancy as fuck. YOU KNOW IT
Sydney: Has very cute ones of all different colours. Sometimes they mismatch, which is fun. I think her favourite would have a strawberry theme. Has a few pairs that are for a date ;)
Gabby: Oh Gabby. They are old, way out of fashion, and hand me downs (except for the bottoms but they are plain). But they are clean and they smell of mothballs, so not the worst?
Javeen: Exclusively wears sports bras and simple underwear. Purely functional. But WILL "show off" the sports bra in hot weather when working on her car so win?
What's your oc's gender identity? What's their relationship to their gender?
Minerva has always been in my mind a cis woman and does adhere to traditional feminine presentation. She's a bit back and forth honestly about it. She wants everyone to be able to express themselves exactly as they choose; yet she feels nervous herself presenting any other way. But she's also very comfortable in it and doesn't really want to change either?
Minerva in pretty much all incarnations (except wayhaven sort of) has a very contemptuous relationship with her mother, who did force conformity onto her via her image. So she struggles with imagining herself any other way, even though it's painful. She feels like she should rebel, but she likes being feminine too. That's why she usually only wears black, it was the one thing that was her choice in her presentation.
That being said, she knows full well that she's conforming to the "standard" and knows full well being fem as a woman isn't revolutionary lol. And would never claim so.
This was a long winded answer to say: it's a bit complicated!
3. How did your oc discover themself? Did something cause them to question, or did they always know?
Minerva is bi and she's known since she was very young, she gets crushes easily :) I think she discovered quite early on, and would seek out groups of queer folk often to figure herself out. She would always have to sneak out to do this. But it's what ultimately developed her fearlessness and confidence!
18. Do you prefer to give your ocs specific labels, or keep it unspecified? Why? If applicable, do you change their labels depending on circumstance?
I usually like giving them specific labels! Just for my own brain to wrap around. That being said, it also depends on what kind of story I'm writing, and kind of character I want them to be. I have 2 book characters (in two different series) who have no idea what they are, either because they don't have the experience or the world may not have those specific labels.
For example, the main character in the book I wrote, she has no idea what she is. She's only ever felt love towards a woman, but she's not sure if she's capable of loving someone else? And she has no idea of the terms. So if you asked her, she would shrug, probably.
For another example, this is a different character, I have 4 books planned and would refer to her as "her" for the first two books, then in the third she starts to question whether she really is a "her" only. I don't think I would use the usual labels in these examples necessarily, mostly because they are fantasy, non-earth worlds. That being said this isn't a strict rule and I may use labels in other fantasy worlds for ease. It's up to the way I want to write the character :)
The last chapter!! I hope you like it :) This was a lot of fun to work with, and @kurczakmarty it was an honour to write Amelie for multiple chapters :) I hope this last one concludes the story well.
Have a fantastic birthday tomorrow, I hope its filled with delicious food and games!!
5/5
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Minerva knew something had changed the moment she saw the dark circles under her eyes. She had not bothered to style her hair today, no makeup. She looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in the week since she last saw her. Deflated and defeated. Nothing at all like the bright, sharp, wicked woman she had come to know over the month and a half.
She feared she would break if pushed too hard. She had to be gentle, no more vague snark. This wasn’t deliberate hiding; it was a broken heart. You learned to spot the difference in this line of work. “Amelie,” Minerva said, making sure her own voice did not crack. “Tell me what happened.”
And so she did. Like a monotone, she revisited the event of the week with little emotion to show. That she had won an award, had invited her mother to see her accept it. That Unit Bravo had shown, and that her mother did not.
That it was just par for the course, so she didn’t know why she expected anything different.
Time to nip that train of thought in the bud before it grew into a decades old tree that refused to be cut down.
“No. It is not something you just have to accept from her. Unit Bravo showed you otherwise.”
Amelie looked blankly to the floor. “That just makes it worse.”
Minerva nodded, taking a deep breath. “I can see why you’d feel that way. But it does prove beyond doubt, that there are people who will be with you, and love you, and care about you, doesn’t it?”
“Morgan was really sweet, afterwards,” Amelie smiled, but it was worryingly empty. “She did make me feel better. They all did. But, it wasn’t-”
Who you wanted to be praised by?
Minerva turned, to stare at the paperwork on her desk. So much pain in those documents, from so many people. Sometimes, the load was too much and she wanted nothing more than to curl up on her couch and drown in wine. The things you learn in this job can be so harrowing, and this was no exception. This was a lifetime of neglect coming to fruition in a young adult who deserved far better than what she got.
What she despised, most of all, was the fast nature of therapy. Sessions were only an hour, fifty minutes, if she was being honest, so you can finish the proper paperwork and prepare for the next client, but that time limit was often not enough. Look at how far Amelie had come, telling the full events and now they had maybe ten minutes to talk about it? She needed more. She’d get it proper next week, but what about until then? A week more of fighting this emptiness, this reality.
And then what? The point of therapy was not to do it forever. They had one more session after the next, and then it was up to her to come back, with no obligation job wise to do so. Minerva just had to hope she would come back, and continue the work that she desperately needed. Most didn’t.
Running out of time, Minerva had to decide what best technique, rather the perfect words to get her through this week. She was committing the number one sin in therapy-- the idea that the therapist had all the answers and had to be perfect, when in reality none were, and no one did. The desire to help this person outplayed that knowledge.
But what was the best advice, what was the perfect way to keep her going?
Of course, when she came up with nothing, a terrible fear shook her. She needed to have something, anything, and with all the training and experience and hope that she could do something she should have it!
Suddenly, Minerva threw her clipboard across the room, frustrated at what it represented: a barrier between the theoretical and the human. She was tired of hiding behind it. She could come up with the most complex, deep, and scientific answer to Amelie’s problem-- and it would mean nothing. It would mean nothing, if not given the time to explore it. So, instinct told her to instead, stick with the most basic human connection known to history.
“I feel for you, Amelie. It is sadly very relatable to me,” Minerva said carefully. Calmly. “I would like to comfort you, with your consent. Perhaps a hug, if that is alright with you?”
A very grey point of discussion in therapy, how much you can and should physically touch a client. It’s mostly looked down upon, but can be done in the right circumstances. Considering the history of their sessions, it may yet prove to be a bad idea.
Humour glinted in Amelie’s dead eyes. Minerva was relieved to see it. “Isn’t that illegal?”
Minerva chuckled, shaking her head. “No, it’s not illegal. So long as it is professional.”
Snickering, Amelie paused to think. After a few moments, she nodded. “Okay.”
They stood at the same time. Minerva wrapped gentle arms around her, the universal back pat of comfort well practised at this point in her career. It was a silent moment, no tears shed. That’s what made it special. Two women with terrible mothers sharing a moment of respite with the other. Sometimes words were not needed. There was more work to be done of course, but it was the little things that kept people going.
Amelie felt very small in her arms. Almost like a child.
When the hug ended, Minerva smiled. “It’s going to be okay. You have a lot of people who are with you. Myself included.”
Amelie managed a smile. There was a flicker more of light in her eyes, colour in her cheeks. “I’ll see you next week, doc.”
*******
The week almost up, Minerva was tapping her pen against a blank sheet of paper, wondering if any of her previous notes were truly of any help. She had hopes that these last two sessions were not going to be the last after all, but it still behooved her to be as well prepared as possible. Her papers were spread out on her coffee table like there had been a hurricane in her living room. It helped to see the chaos, sometimes. Then, there was a knock at her door, and she got up from her very fancy and very comfortable couch, setting down her glass of wine.
It was Sydney. She had a game in her hands, one of her cozy farming simulators that she liked to play with others. “It’s been a long week,” she said, her eyes tired. “Let’s finish it off with some relaxation!”
Minerva stepped out of her way so she could come in. “I’ll get more wine.”
Certainly not a lunch shared, but just as good. As Sydney set up her game, Minerva poured a nice glass of red, for both of them—topping hers off carefully. It would be good to give her brain a break, a true one.
Sydney hadn’t offered too much advice after talking about ‘Foxface’ to her. Not as if she was expecting any, but it had been nice to voice this past month and a half out loud. It had untangled her thoughts.
She then packed up her notes, making sure they were not in the same vicinity of the wine and could not be read by a glance. Because she was focused on that, what happened next almost had a delayed reaction.
The sky turned red.
Minerva dropped her papers, staring at the window. An eerie jolt of electricity ran up her spine. They both trembled as they stood at the window, taking in the clearly unnatural state of the sky. How she knew this, Minerva did not know, but she knew Amelie was a part of it. She was in danger.
Sydney wrapped an arm around her, and Minerva did the same.
She could only hope they were ready for what was to come.
This week marked the day that Amelie actually got something out of therapy. Praise be to the power of hot women and bragging rights.
The two chatted away at the beginning, as usual. But the conversation shifted to territory that had to be done carefully, as oversharing on Minerva’s part was again, a tight rope accident waiting to happen.
“So doc,” Amelie grinned, “you worked for the agency long?”
“Two years now in Wayhaven,” Minerva replied. “I go back and forth deciding if that’s long or not.”
Amelie nodded. “Long enough. Do you live here, in HQ?”
Minerva quirked an amused eyebrow. “I have been given living quarters here, yes. Though I originally started at the Agency Headquarters in Russia, where I was born. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered if you were up to date in all the hot gossip. Word travels here fast.”
“You walk half a step in the halls and you fall into gossip,” Minerva chuckled. Like a god damn pokemon. “So yes. I am well versed in the goings on. Though I try not to bring it up in my sessions. I’d rather the client bring it up, not me.”
That did make sense to Amelie. Imagine a therapist hearing about all the rumours surrounding you and what you do, and then demanding your opinion on it. It just wouldn’t work.
But considering what she knew about Minerva through her snooping...in that she was no stranger to dating and stuff, and that she did, admittedly, like talking to her...maybe it would be okay to talk to her about Morgan. Amelie talked a big game, but really, the whole situation with her was so confusing it might actually help if she got a second opinion about it.
“So you do know about my whole situation, then.”
Minerva gave her that look, that was honest and calm but annoying to be at the other end of. “You are going to have to be more specific.”
Amelie shifted. Why was it so hard to say? “That I’m kinda involved with someone?”
Minerva smiled, looking genuinely happy for her. “I have heard those rumours, yes.”
“Don’t get sappy on me doc. It’s not like we are actually dating or anything. It’s very casual.”
“Mhm. And what does being casual mean to you?”
She shrugged. “We fuck. We have fun. And we argue a lot. I don’t know.”
Minerva tilted her head to the side. “And did you want to further that relationship into something more, then? Or are you content with it as is?”
That was the question, wasn’t it. The fact that she kept questioning it, back and forth, all the time...didn’t that mean she did? “I guess so.”
Minerva shot her a teasing smile. “Well Miss Cassanova, go hit her up and ask her out, then.”
The bluntness in her voice actually made Amelie blush. “What? No, no, no. It’s not like that. I don’t know what Morgan-” Even just saying her name right now made her cheeks redden more. “I don’t know if she’d even, I mean, of course not, she isn’t like that.”
The next question Minerva asked stunned her. “Did you ask her?”
It took her a moment to recover. “No. But, you know what she’s like. Does she strike you as the dating type?”
“What I think doesn’t matter. I don’t know her.” Minerva rested her chin on her hand. “But you can’t really know what a person wants until you ask them.”
Amelie shook her head.“I-I don’t know...I can’t just straight up ask her.”
“What do you think is preventing you from doing so?”
She didn’t know. It was just a question. She knew that Morgan didn’t want to date anyone else, just sleep with them. So it wold track that Amelie was in the same boat. But, the...the thing was different between them. They kept going back to one another. It wasn’t a hit and quit situation at all. I mean, obviously, Amelie was a catch, so, really what was stopping her from just asking?
Her mind was realizing the answer but she had to run from it. “Well, like I said, we fight a lot.” She twirled her thumbs in her lap. “Doesn’t seem like that’s a good thing, right?”
“When you fight,” Minerva asked, “how do you feel after? There are a lot of ways to do it. It’s fairly normal to argue, but the difference is always in how you fight.”
“We yell,” Amelie said, “call each other names, sometimes. We can be pretty mean.”
“When it’s over, do you feel like you hate her?”
She shook her head again. “Not really.”
Minerva jotted something down. “Pardon the cheesy phrasing. I think if you were fighting with hatred, you wouldn’t feel very good after. Good, strong couples do fight, but they do so with love. They don’t tear each other down so they can step on them. They don’t invalidate their values.” She paused for a moment. “When I would fight with my mother, I would always feel empty after. Like I was screaming at a void. She would ridicule what made me, me. But, when I fight with someone I do love and care for, I never question whether they still love me.”
Amelie sat with that, for a little while. She could feel her chest lifting, like it was lighter, once again. She found herself glad of that perspective, because honest to god, she liked their fights too. They were exciting-- like a bounce pit where you collide with someone over and over, without actually hurting them. They were stupid, too. So stupid, they became silly and something to laugh about later. Minerva was right in her comparison. She never felt like Morgan ever hated her. She could, in fact, feel confident that what she felt was definitely not hate.
And that made her feel much better.
-------
Sydney had a wonderful, goofy smile. “That’s how we fight, too!”
Minerva pretended to be offended. “What do you mean, we never fight.”
“We are fighting right now!!” And she tried to put Minerva in a headlock, but ended up giggling too much and it was just a hug. Minerva chuckled and hugged her back, her own worries washing away.
Nothing like good old fashioned affection to make life so much easier.
