Aggie pulls over her chair so that she balances partially on Barbara's lap and on the chair. Her guardian is strong, she knows that, but Aggie can tell she's tired. It makes her hug sincere and fierce, but also careful.

"Barbara," she reminds her softly. "I'm three hundred years old. And a witch. I don't think I'm going to grow up normally at all. And that's okay. I like how this is."

And, in a painfully circumspect way, even with her abilities Aggie doesn't think she'll ever be the kind of hero that her guardian is. After all, her story began when she was the villain.