"So you can't even send a letter then?" it was a curious sight -- an imp shouting at a moogle, tiny finger extended with an accusatory tone. "Well what good are you then? Didn't you say that that was your job in the first place?" Midna huffed as her moogle broke a sweat with a stream of quiet "I'm sorries," trailing off into the quiet.

Crossing her arms over her chest, the imp stood near the bulletin board with a less than pleased expression, glowering as she examined the area. "Well you had better be working on some way to make it up to me," she commented off-handedly, leaping onto her moogle's back as he struggled to stay afloat.

"Well we're not going to figure anything out by just standing here, either," holding on, she pumped her heels as one would do with any steed. "Let's get going already!"