Niamh straightened her dress, pushed her pale hair onto her shoulder, and looked at her reflection one last time: If a Von Rohr was ever to look proper, it must be Niamh in this moment. And then she broke out in a wide grin, ruining the elegance of her orchestrated pose: she was about to indulge in sugary, delectable sweetness, not attend her mother's funeral again.

There was a cafe which, once in a blue moon, offered a contest: Eat the largest sundae known to witchkind! If one triumphed, then one would not have to pay a single cent for the delectable treat. Drizzled in chocolate, spattered with caramel, dotted with strawberries, decorated with whipped cream-- Niamh almost swooned just thinking about it.

She covered her grin with one hand, and calmed herself down. Sort of. That excited bounce was still fixed in her step, and as she made her way out to the cafe in question, she nearly pounced on Rajih as soon as she saw him. She managed to restrain herself, largely because she had not yet ingested any actual sugar.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes uncharacteristically warm: "Thank you for agreeing to assist me, Rajiih, in this most prestigious trial." She paused, nodded her head, and then lost her composure: "Can we go in, because I want to make sure we get a nice seat! Comfort is important when devouring sweet treats, delectable sweets..." Niamh wanted to twirl, just thinking about it.

Because she had been denied sweets as a child, she couldn't help but feel thrilled thinking of them.