[ so withdrawn into himself as he had been, he doesn't even notice sansa's approach until she is already there, standing defiantly at his side. his surprise is visible, but minute — a faint lift of his brows, a parting around a silent question of his lips. he had not heard her words, not entirely, but the tone of them persists, echoing in his ears, already red from his scolding and shame.
before them, the harried woman stumbles and stammers. she had had more gumption when there was no fight, when he had just been a silent well for her to throw her frustrations and anger at. now that she meets resistance, she falters.
sansa, after all, is quite the forebearing presence, even in her sickly condition.
after a few futile grumblings, the woman simply turns and takes her leave. lance is left to stare after her, before his eyes fall to the ground once more. ]
Thanks, [ he says, voice a little rough from disuse. ] But it was alright... She was just upset.
no subject
before them, the harried woman stumbles and stammers. she had had more gumption when there was no fight, when he had just been a silent well for her to throw her frustrations and anger at. now that she meets resistance, she falters.
sansa, after all, is quite the forebearing presence, even in her sickly condition.
after a few futile grumblings, the woman simply turns and takes her leave. lance is left to stare after her, before his eyes fall to the ground once more. ]
Thanks, [ he says, voice a little rough from disuse. ] But it was alright... She was just upset.
[ and he can't quite say he disagreed. ]