That's what you call grand? [ There's a laugh mixed in with her huff of annoyance at her zipper problem. ] I think your definition of 'grand' is a little different than the rest of the population, Claude.

[ Hilda is really only half listening to Claude's grandeur plans. Good thing too. If her mind were left to its own devices, it would probably end up running down a silly daydream rabbit hole of a world where Claude was trying to court her. The thought is laughable, filled with nothing of sweet perfume and fancies that she had to quickly wave away before it became too lofty of a dream. Disappointment is not a taste she's accustomed to, but she's not inclined to have more of it, especially if it comes hand in hand with Claude.

Besides, if he ever did that would mean that he would be in danger of having to fight Holst. Claude is many things but he isn't Holst Goneril. He'd never stand a chance against her big brother and then Alliance would be out one Mr. Leader Man. And then who's fault would that be? She can practically hear Lorenz chiding her for letting Claude do something silly again.

But again, those are all flights of fancy and her current priority is trying to get her hair untangled from the zipper of her dress. A faux cheerful comment about how she's fine sits on the tip of her tongue (part of her grand plan to step away from him means she has to do some things herself), but she realizes belatedly that he's already there. Even though it's only been several seconds her cheeks are flushed with frustration from her earlier misspeak and now having her hair in what's probably a tangled rat's nest. What she can't see is that the zipper is also caught in the fabric of her undergarment. Great! ]

I might need a little help.