Crouching low in the middle of a nondescript affini bureaucratic office with a look of patient, puzzled, but amused concentration on her face, our hero, Rayne Dendra, First Floret, ponders her beloved Mistress’ predicament. "wow Mistress, you're reeeaaallllyyyy tangled up in this chair," she muses, fussing over the incomprehensible mess of vines.   

Our second hero—though she will always be first in Rayne’s mind—Azalea Dendra, First Bloom, introduces herself with an affable shrug. "Yeah... I was rolling back and forth while I was waiting for you, and I ran over my foot. But I didn't notice so I kept going until the chair was completely stuck in place." 

A gasp of delighted amazement escapes Rayne’s lips. "Wow Miss! And how did you manage to run your foot over with all four wheels? Gosh you're just so talented!!" 

Azalea pulls an unassuming grin. "Heh... thank you, dear." 

"Of course, Miss!” Rayne glows at her Mistress’ gratitude. “But… I'm not sure I can help you get unstuck right now. I’m sorry Mistress! It’s my mistake. I knew we were going to be in public today, but I still left my tools at home. I should have remembered to bring them." 

Still lying on her back from her prior tumble, Azalea rolls onto her side, then pushes herself up. She gazes down at her pet, giving Rayne a gentle stroke across her cheek, and speaks in a tender, affectionate tone. "It's okay my darling,” she assures. “You shouldn’t fault yourself. Remember: you're just a pet. It's not your responsibility to keep track of me. Any shortcoming you think you might have is really my own shortcoming. After all, what is a pet if not an extension of her Mistress? Your mistakes are my mistakes." 

The realization hits Rayne like a truck, but a nice truck. Some sort of hypothetical soft and comfy pillow truck. She gasps, and smiles wide at the epiphany. "I see! So you're saying it wasn't actually a mistake at all then?”

“How do you figure, flower?”

Rayne seems surprised for a moment at how her Mistress could not get something so obvious. But then it dawns on her: her Mistress is just asking her to elaborate so as to ensure that Rayne understands, and doesn’t need any further explanation. “Well it’s obvious, Mistress! You don’t make mistakes. You’re too perfect!” 

Azalea coughs, then nods. "Right, absolutely! What matters, my love, is you that you have absolutely nothing to feel sorry for. You’ve done nothing wrong, little flower. So how about we go home, then you can grab your tools and help me get out of this chair." 

With an emphatic nod, Rayne leaps to her feet. "Yes, Mistress!" 

Azalea follows suit, the chair dragging along the floor as she does. She turns over her shoulder, calling to Paprika. "Hey, uhh.... Pepper Bell? We're taking this chair." At that, she strides confidently to the door, Rayne following after her, gazing on in total adoration. Azalea crosses through the doorway, and into the hall, setting off for home. She takes one more step, only to fall flat on her face as the chair dragging behind her becomes lodged in the doorway. Nevertheless, Azalea, with the help of her loyal, beloved pet, presses on. Working together, the pair manage to dislodge her from the doorway, and head off. Rayne happily rides the tangled up chair the rest of the way home as it trails behind her perfect, wonderful Mistress.