The way she saw it, Daphne Hopton was predestined to always get the fish left at the bottom of the barrel. Despite having two very prestigious parents, it seemed, such luck was not inherited or passed down to one's offspring. Miss Hopton made a careful note to, if she ever did that is, marry a man who had a contract with Lady Luck.

For the sake of her children, of course.

As she had passed the door, Daphne had collected a few items she thought she would need. The dragon-hide gloves were to pacify her overly paranoid mind which was conjuring infectious diseases she could catch and the brush was to make sure Napoleón looked presentable. Crup or not, he was in her care and the least she could do was to tend to his appearance.

His emotional and physical growth could be handled at a more distant time. Daphne's hazel eyes sought out her name among the plaques, only to sneer at her given title distastefully. It had been crudely etched into a plaque underneath Napoleón's name. How very unflattering.

Peering into the cage, Miss Hopton tried not to be suckered in by the crup's round glistening eyes fixated on her. Nor did she pay much attention to the way the canine tilted his head sideways as if not believing he had been handed such an inadequate caretaker. "Well, don't look at me that way," responded Daphne dryly, slipping on the gloves before opening the cage carefully. "I'm not too fond of you either."

Reaching inside, Daphne prepared to use a tight grip but the infantile crup didn't seem to have any intention of running away or causing a fuss. Instead, he tucked his head underneath the curve of the glove, forked tail a swishing happy blurr.

Stunned, Daphne brought out the white four-legged critter, dark spots around his eyes and ears. There was another dark brown spot covering his lower half, all the way down to his swinging tail. Silently, she combed Napoleóns coat, wondering if that incessant tail swishing would ever end.

Miss Hopton placed Napoleón back on his cage. He didn't think it was time however and protested slightly with a whine and lunged forward to jump out. His head was stopped by a gloved hand. "Sorry, Napoleón, but we're just not that good friends yet! You can't just jump at people, pesky puppy," finished Daphne in a whisper, lips curved in an amusement she would never admit to. Locking the cage, Daphne hung the gloves in its place by the door and put away the brush on her way out and away from the nursery.