[ letters. she sends him letters and she sounds the same. he scrolls the screen, reads and rereads the words. she is as she's always sounded. but his eyes continue to linger heavily. Lady Sansa Stark. it doesn't dig into him as deep as the first time (like it did from her mouth) and he sighs, taps his foot on the ground because he has all this nervous energy and nothing to do with it. his knee's jumping. he straightens out the muscle and opens the reply screen.
he knows he owes her the courtesy of the same but if that was the point, if writing in perfect etiquette was his aim, that's what he'd be doing. but it's not. he skips it, not to spite her or inflict her with any kind of pain. he isn't malicious or scorned. and he doesn't know who he feels more comfortable addressing the letter to, if it should still say Alayne because not everyone knows. ]
if you mean that and you have some time to spare, i'm outside.
( A C T I O N | T E X T )
he knows he owes her the courtesy of the same but if that was the point, if writing in perfect etiquette was his aim, that's what he'd be doing. but it's not. he skips it, not to spite her or inflict her with any kind of pain. he isn't malicious or scorned. and he doesn't know who he feels more comfortable addressing the letter to, if it should still say Alayne because not everyone knows. ]
if you mean that and you have some time to spare, i'm outside.
[ well... ]
i think.