Plourr looks down. "Well?" she enquires gruffly. "What do you think?"

Pause.

"Never kicks when I want her to." She makes her way over to the comfortable, padded chair (added to the room on her insistence) and slowly, carefully sinks down into it. "Only when I'm trying to sleep. Kriffing contrary." She props her bare, swollen feet up on the open lowest drawer of the dresser.

"Ianna Estillo-Pernon," she says, and she smiles.