Carr was considering her mop quite skeptically. She'd been finally getting along with her Cleansweep, which had kindly allowed her to hover only a couple feet of the ground in order to get used to flying. She doubted this mop would do the same unless she specifically directed it to, which wasn't something she was adept in. Still, she mounted the mop and kicked off from the ground, noticing that the mop--unlike the broom--had at least waited for her to kick off before it rose into the air. The mop rose three feet into the air, very slowly as though the water made it difficult for the mop to move very quickly.

The first thing Carr noticed was that the mop seemed to be quite off-balanced. Except that... well, it didn't really feel off-balanced exactly just... just a different balance. It was actually sort of comfortable. The mop, which was the basset hound to her Cleansweep's chihuahua, was not as jerkily responsive to Carr's bumbling steering. It was quite easy for her to turn and move forward on the mop. She was still squeamish about the heights, but she felt more secure on the slow-moving mop than she ever had on the exciteable broom.