( for his part, Jace is seated in one of the arm chairs that decorate his half of the suite. he does not jump out of that seat and resists the urge to bark at whoever's entered about knocking, as if scolding a servant. he's never done it before at home, no, but here the lack of propriety is unnerving. his own books and items are scattered through the room, but there are signs of Baela as well — a sweater left draped over the back of a chair, a hair pin left atop the dresser.
he doesn't jump but perks up as Aemond bursts in, brows raising toward his forehead. he pushes the glass of wine he'd poured himself across the table, toward the empty seat, and stands to get another from where he's left it on his desk. )
I have heard. ( he glances over his shoulder at his uncle, motions toward the seat. ) How is he?
( drunk? from their time? burnt and bed-ridden as the rumours say? )
no subject
he doesn't jump but perks up as Aemond bursts in, brows raising toward his forehead. he pushes the glass of wine he'd poured himself across the table, toward the empty seat, and stands to get another from where he's left it on his desk. )
I have heard. ( he glances over his shoulder at his uncle, motions toward the seat. ) How is he?
( drunk? from their time? burnt and bed-ridden as the rumours say? )