Daisy leaned against the reception counter, chin resting in one hand and eyes trained on her temperamental boyfriend. It was getting late, and the House of Mouse patrons were getting to the point of either leaving or going nuts. Mickey, well-meaning, did what he always did and decided to crack a few jokes to try to keep the remaining crowd appeased. And of course, that means that he cracked one or two about Donald. Who wasn't taking it well.

Donald was stalking around the entryway, talking at her more than to her. "Who does he think he is?! That palooka, I'll show him a thing or two!—"

He'd drawn a small crowd too, consisting of herself, Minnie, who had come a second too late for damage control; Max, who had heard the commotion from outside; and Huey, Dewey, and Louie, who were poking their heads out of their dressing room to witness the familiar sight.

Daisy sighed. It had been a rough week for all of them, and with Donald so tired and irritable already (…well, more than usual) this wasn't going to fix itself any time soon. That, and…well, she knew Mickey didn't mean any harm, but he could get a little short-sighted when it came to entertaining a crowd. As much as Donald would deny it, she knew he loved Mickey like a brother. This anger was more hurt than anything. All he needed was some quiet time to clear his head and some good reassurance, provided by her, of course.

This wasn't the place for that, though, not with their friends watching. Donald could hardly stand "sappy talks" even in private, though he appreciated them; he'd hardly consent to being calmed by one now. So, Plan B would have to do.

"—I do just as much work around here as he does! More! I don't deserve to be—" When Donald came near her counter once again, Daisy swiftly pulled him closer by the sleeve of his uniform ("waaak!"), and them quickly grasped his hand when it came into reach. She stayed where she was, not relenting her grip, and eventually felt the tension start to drain out of him.

Their friends and family, seeing that that was that, quietly excused themselves, leaving the two birds alone. Donald sighed and leaned against the countertop opposite Daisy, eyes focused on some point beyond her and clutching her hand just as firmly. Daisy couldn't suppress a tiny smile, seeing that he'd accepted the small bit of comfort.

She was in love with Donald Duck, after all. This was what she was here for.