[ A soft chuckle from Beatrice. Not quite her usual cackle. She leans over and gently gives the blushing bride a pat on the arm--she's not bold enough to go for the hair ruffle just yet. ]
You're right, he wouldn't be.
[ And her smile grows. This one is warm. Not the cackling grin of the evil witch. ]
no subject
You're right, he wouldn't be.
[ And her smile grows. This one is warm. Not the cackling grin of the evil witch. ]
He and I really are very happy for you, Ange.