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Isobel laughed happily, uncaring of who heard or what they thought for once; nothing made her happier than her kitty, especially her kitty being cute which was, granted, pretty much all the time... she was pretty sure that there was no cat more adorable or cuddly or loving in the entire world. Although Mister Mogget was a close second, no-one could quite reach the level of Madam Nibbs - even when her fur had been scruffy and had had little bald patches, she had been the prettiest cat in the world to Tibbie. Time and the deepening of their bond had only intensified this.

She and the little Madam were taking a break on their daily walk in the park, perching themselves on a wrought iron bench and one of them very intent on scent-marking their human (read: Nibbs wouldn't stop headbutting her, purring loudly and making biscuits on her collarbone all the while).
Isobel's crown of green flower buds were in full bloom, colourful, pretty flowers set against her hair - her main source of happiness since the ball had been her little feline companion, nearly always with her and ready to provide comfort. It'd been needed, considering what she'd witnessed.

Surprise made her giggles end in an ungraceful snort and for one short moment she wished the earth would just open up and swallow her and the bench. Alas it didn't, and so she was left staring wide-eyed at the cute guy who'd just talked to her.

"M-me?" She squeaked, before clearing her throat. Madam Nibbs had stopped her ministrations and turned to look at the distraction, still safely ensconced on Isobel's lap. She deigned a small yawn and a slow blink in greeting to the newcomer. "You like my flowers?" Tibbie tried to bumble on, obviously flustered by the compliment; one questing hand went to her crown, not in as full bloom as it'd been before but still very pretty.

"Åh, um, thank you - they're, I mean, I don't quite know how I got them-" except it happened at a ball full of murderous magical beings, but she couldn't very well tell him that- "but they're very neat! I do like them a lot. I like Madam Nibbs better though - there's nothing I like quite as much as her." Cue awkward laugh. "She's, um, well..." A gesture to the kitty on her lap.

"Yes, how did you know?" Politely baffled was a state of being Isobel often found herself in, although this time it occurred to her too late that she should probably have tried to refute the magic origin of her flower crown. "I mean - oh, fish!" If the choice of word left any doubt as to it being a cuss, the vehement tone it was said in did not. "Sorry, I, I-"

But he was apologizing too and that made her just as flustered - she was wringing her hands, blushing visibly as the little Madam on her lap started grooming herself, heedless of her human's troubles. "N-no, it's fine! Don't, um, worry, I-I mean-" with an inner frustration, she gave up on the sentence, sending him helpless doe eyes to please help her out here.

Which he did, bringing her back to something she had practiced for her whole life - introducing herself. "Åh! It's very nice to meet you, I'm, er, Isobel or Tibbie, whichever you p-prefer." There were a few stumbles, but she managed to get through it alright and even chanced a little smile at the end. "Sorry, I'm not- not the best conversationalist or very interesting. Besides the flowers, I mean. And Nibbs too, b-but she's not really a part of me, just my familiar-" ah, she was saying too much again! But did it really matter if he already knew about magic? Was magic even a secret? Just in case, she piped down.