In the time she and Flauros waited for Morana and Eileen to arrive, Brandy spent ninety percent of it fidgeting and the other ten percent relentlessly snapping about the do-gooders of Asgard. How they made her want to punch something or strangle someone. It was good that she kept walking around, rather than sitting on the sidewalk or lying about. The last thing she needed was her two rescuers stumbling upon her draped out on the nearest bench and joking with the demon.
A fair amount of time passed before, in mid-pebble kick, the redhead caught movement out her peripheral vision. There they were, the darlings of Asgard, here to be her heroins. Spinning around, she did what she had done the day of the fire: slipped her fingers under her shirt and dug with all her might against the scar of Kain's spear wound. The wound itself was no longer in critical condition, having closed up weeks ago. But she honed in on every ounce of torture to her shoulder that this action caused. Ten seconds later, she gazed up, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "It's showtime!" She whispered dramatically before whipping around once more to greet her saviors.
"Oh, you came, you came!" She squealed, choking on her enthusiasm. "I was so afraid, and I thought he would kill me, and you did everything you asked, and -"
She paused, and then wailed. "You didn't bring me new shooooooes!" And the sobbing commenced as she snaked her arms around her "daughter" and squeezed for dear life.
{AN: I hope cutting in wasn't too inconsiderate of me! D: To keep from confusion, let's just go Morana, Brandy, Flauros, Eileen.}