[ No sword, not even a dagger, Jorah lets his hand ease back to his side, where it waits, open and ready. He’s down to vembraces and skirt for protection; the heavier metal plate of his armor is missing, arranged in at tidy stack in another room. Naturally.
The look in her eyes is enough to steel some of the humor out of the grip of his jaw, whiskers bristled ginger and grey at his chops. What remains is at his own expense as much as it is hers, but he does stand a shade taller at the insult, spine stiffened out in the small of his back. Old man. ]
Keep walking and find out.
[ All gravel and sand, he manages to make it sound like an invitation, very nearly polite. ]
RUuuuuuuuuuude
The look in her eyes is enough to steel some of the humor out of the grip of his jaw, whiskers bristled ginger and grey at his chops. What remains is at his own expense as much as it is hers, but he does stand a shade taller at the insult, spine stiffened out in the small of his back. Old man. ]
Keep walking and find out.
[ All gravel and sand, he manages to make it sound like an invitation, very nearly polite. ]