Reckon that's a man best not involved, not with the spoons thing and your old man with his shirt flapping in the wind. It'll sort itself. I think.

[There was the time that she was so dreadfully sad (there are better words but sad is enough) and he was outside the door. He didn't know if it would end but here she is now.

Apparently life always moves on.]

Family's a messy business at the best of times, gets a bit snarled up when you sort of forget to bother to stop back or write since the Arishok set fire to things and lopped the Viscount's head off.

[It doesn't count if your family spies on you but an Orlesian knows that better than literally anyone else except maybe a Nevarran.]