<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/92/cd/85/92cd85ec2a22444f2bc7b101e7e7b143.jpg)</div><strong>Morag</strong><br/><br/>Narrowing her eyes at Scarlett, Morag at last seated herself, wriggling a bit to even the cushion against her rump, the smoothed out her skirts (which, while quite a bit shorter than decency traditionally demanded, were still fairly voluminous). Both hands slapped her lap and she looked at Bryce. "Well 'en? You 'eard our Lady and Mistress. Plant yerself. Damned if I'm feedin' you, though."<br/><br/>Indeed, it was far more likely she'd take her breakfast from the Chief, save that she'd made a more or less binding promise to not nibble on the senior officers. Discipline, safety, etc. She was still having a ahrd time hidin her smirk, though.