[ How like Haurchefant to ensure a change of clothing is prepared for her. Y'tajha is no stranger to the feeling of the cold dampness of her traveling garments against her skin; she can and has put up with it on many an occasion, but when her stop at the kitchens sees her met by a servant with clothing in hand, she's more than pleased— and perhaps just a little charmed by his efforts.

Her fingers, caught gently in the circle of his, curl to grasp his in return, a smile on her lips as the room's warmth wraps around her like the embrace she so longs to steal from his arms.

Instead, she stands on her toes— and then jumps a few ilms into the air— to press a kiss of greeting to the sharp line of his handsome jaw. A playful smile tugs at her lips, in the same key as her words, bordering on flirtatious as she settles back against the grey stone floor. ]

My lord, have you begun dabbling in petty larceny? I believe you stole the words from my mouth before they could find my tongue.