Dolly's doing her best. Her very, very best. She's handling this one solo, since the goddess is a sweaty heap of mewing in her bed, and she's got to get this engineer out of their collective hair. Even so, she looks frazzled, flushed, a bit of a mess, a figure of fun for the cult to snicker about. Oh, how lovely it must be to get the goddess's attention, so on and so forth.

But the question was asked, and so Dolly stops and considers it properly, and something swims forth from the river of thought. Like any good Hybrasilian, she snatches it up immediately, lays it open, and feasts.

"What can you tell me about Mirror?" She blinks, slow, comfortable, despite her dishevelment. It's intentionally vulnerable, disarming. "Since you work with her. For her. With her?" A cock of the head: a question underneath the question. "After all, we are standing together. I thought I knew her, but the more I look, the more confusing she gets..."