Agatha hopped nervously from one foot to the other, watching her clock. What if she [i]was[/i] supposed to meet him there, and he thought she stood him up? Her fingers twitched and started to reach for her broom. If she left now and flew as fast as she could, she might not be too late. She pulled herself back and quickly returned to pacing. On the other hand, what if he was on his way, she wasn't here when he arrived? Surely he had a... reasonable excuse, as to why he was late. Agatha groaned loudly and flopped onto her bed. [i]But what if he didn't[/i]?

Aggie was tapping her long, gnarled fingernails on the counter when Barrel walked in. She didn't bother with her usual welcoming greeting when she saw him. The old witch looked him up and down for a long moment, noting his abnormally clean -- even [i]ironed[/i] -- clothing, nervous expression, and awkward demeanor. Finally, she responded. 

"A young man in your position would usually be expected to pick the young lady up," she answered him. "I suppose your brother didn't think you would need to be told that. You always were the most... straightforward of your siblings, if not necessarily the most refined." She smiled at him with a glint in her eyes. "I expect you'll be making an effort to ensure the [i]rest[/i] of the evening goes [i]particularly[/i] well, now."