"Paladin," confesses Olivia with a fond pat of the mare's neck. "I was not a very creative child." Although her sister was no better, thankfully. Olivia doesn't look at Zarya first, instead reaching out for the saddle and strapping it on with short, quick movements that betray her skill at it. It's only once she's finished that she turns to look over at the other woman.

And then up. Whatever she was expecting, Zarya isn't it. "I don't think we've met." She would remember.