Noctisardor Bypass dammit pomegranate

Fiona winced at the rhetorical question, knowing the lack of personal time had been a large part of Druid's discomfort ever since she'd had the children. Perhaps ever since the pregnancy.

Oh, I always want to hear about it, Fiona replied, sincere. It's just that sometimes I don't know my own limits. Like a dog who kept playing fetch long after their legs were tired.

When Prowler's name came up, and Fiona shook her head and sighed. She went and got herself knocked up. Seems to have hidden herself away so well that not even I can find her. Imagine she's about ready to pop, if I remember my raccoon husbandry correctly. Fiona wondered if Prowler was smart enough to know better. Was she intelligent enough to make that decision, or had she acted purely on instinct?