[ She knows it to be a rhetorical question, and of course there is something equally sweet she could say it reply, but Y'tajha is nothing if not witty with those whom she loves best (and of everyone, she loves him the best), and so instead her expression turns into something almost offended, mock-exasperation on her features as she raises her brows at him. ]

I'm unsure, ser. How is it that you are not waiting each and every moment for my return in the most poetic of agonies? Am I truly so forgettable that my absence is not noticed until it is over?

[ She raises her eyebrows and waits, face schooled into the perfect image of her most displeased self—

well, near-perfect, because the corners of her lips keep trying to twitch into a smile. ]