A long, slow sniff brought the scent of floral hair treatments and graveyards into Bratch's enormous nostrils. "Hmmmm," she grumbled, turning down the corners of her thin, black lips in a sour expression. It wasn't in Bratch's nature to abandon an argument with her sister, but the anticipation of slaking her hunger was winning the internal battle.<br/><br/>"As long as you don't take too long." The hag thumped down clumsily onto the edge of the low table, ignoring the puddle of remains dampening her dress. "Where are we going today?" Bratch reached a long, clawed forefinger back and wiped up a gobbet of pink slime, then brought it to her mouth to be sucked.