Matilda groans at the scene before them, lifting her goggles back to perch atop her head as she pouts. Her eyes are still red and puffy from crying, and her mascara has run, because even in a world with endless possibilities, she is a hot mess. And she has no idea why everyone else is looking at Gyre like that. A hand on her hip, she steps up onto the porch because it makes her a little bigger.

“We don’t have time for that! There’s calamity brewing! We have to save the world!” She’s not used to speaking like this, so she half shouts the statement, cheeks flushed.

...Everyone else knew this. But it’s still fresh for her, okay?!?