"Gilbert of the Vines?" Ned echoes, but there's no recognition in his face. "That would be very gracious of you, and I would be pleased to learn. To echo what I've said before, I can only hope that I will prove to be an astute pupil so as not to waste your talents and time."
He accepts the knife but sets it down on the cutting board by the rabbit's carcass. He turns towards her and places one gentle hand on her shoulder, the other taking hold of her hand. He offers a slight shake of his head and a softening of his gaze.
"Do not think you are so easily forgotten, Lady Tyrell," he begins, "At least not by me. My children have established their own lives and routines here in the village. Although we are overjoyed to have been reunited, as you can well imagine, I also respect their independence and lives outside of the home, and outside of me. They are not the young babes I once left behind in Winterfell, and they do not need their old father to dote upon them the way they once did." He drops the hand from her shoulder to take her other hand in his, squeezing both with affection. "Our home is always welcome to you, whenever the silence may grow too loud or too great. And I will gladly allow myself to be stolen whenever you will receive me."
He squeezes her hands again before releasing them, turning back towards the rabbit to begin to dress it properly - starting with a slice at the base of its neck. He makes quick work of the thing, having gone through these motions many times in his life - and before long, he has successfully cleaned and butchered the creature into manageable pieces.
"Would you like them smaller?" he asks, wiping at his forehead with the back of his forearm so as to keep the blood and slime off of his face. "And is there somewhere in particular I could dispose of the inedible parts?"
no subject
He accepts the knife but sets it down on the cutting board by the rabbit's carcass. He turns towards her and places one gentle hand on her shoulder, the other taking hold of her hand. He offers a slight shake of his head and a softening of his gaze.
"Do not think you are so easily forgotten, Lady Tyrell," he begins, "At least not by me. My children have established their own lives and routines here in the village. Although we are overjoyed to have been reunited, as you can well imagine, I also respect their independence and lives outside of the home, and outside of me. They are not the young babes I once left behind in Winterfell, and they do not need their old father to dote upon them the way they once did." He drops the hand from her shoulder to take her other hand in his, squeezing both with affection. "Our home is always welcome to you, whenever the silence may grow too loud or too great. And I will gladly allow myself to be stolen whenever you will receive me."
He squeezes her hands again before releasing them, turning back towards the rabbit to begin to dress it properly - starting with a slice at the base of its neck. He makes quick work of the thing, having gone through these motions many times in his life - and before long, he has successfully cleaned and butchered the creature into manageable pieces.
"Would you like them smaller?" he asks, wiping at his forehead with the back of his forearm so as to keep the blood and slime off of his face. "And is there somewhere in particular I could dispose of the inedible parts?"