He could feel the retreat, and it was the last thing that he had wanted to happen. Not that Jon could completely understand everything that was going on right at that moment-- it was like those bitter cold days where ponds would freeze over, and though a man could walk across the surface, things could still be seen below, living and moving but unknowable. He laughed at himself for the image, thinking he was starting to sound like Maester Luwin.
"Pretty," he repeated, "but kind of empty, too. I'd prefer it here. I'm made for a hall filled with cooking smoke and the warmth of hearths. I'd be a poor excuse for a proper noble boy, don't you think?"
He looked at Daenerys and offered a bit more of a smile. "You, though? You should have a chance to shine like you ought."
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"Pretty," he repeated, "but kind of empty, too. I'd prefer it here. I'm made for a hall filled with cooking smoke and the warmth of hearths. I'd be a poor excuse for a proper noble boy, don't you think?"
He looked at Daenerys and offered a bit more of a smile. "You, though? You should have a chance to shine like you ought."