The steward's daughter. [There's an unconscious mocking lilt to his voice, the condescension from a lord to the pathetic creature in his path.
It's hard to think clearly over the anger, but Reek's submissiveness helps. That, at least, hasn't changed. He approaches as though about to round on him, but turns at the last second to look at the girl.] She's not much to look at. [He doesn't recognise her, which means she can't come from the Dreadfort. His gaze lingers on her, as if his attention isn't squarely on the husk of a man beside him.]
But I suppose looks aren't everything, are they Reek?
no subject
It's hard to think clearly over the anger, but Reek's submissiveness helps. That, at least, hasn't changed. He approaches as though about to round on him, but turns at the last second to look at the girl.] She's not much to look at. [He doesn't recognise her, which means she can't come from the Dreadfort. His gaze lingers on her, as if his attention isn't squarely on the husk of a man beside him.]
But I suppose looks aren't everything, are they Reek?