[There's the anger again, bubbling up hot and bitter in her chest, a fire fuelled by the grief and the deeply aching hollowness that echoes beneath. Despite her (already flagging) resolve not to make her situation worse, she can't help but give him a look loaded with all the scorn in her sixteen-year-old body - which, as he has no doubt noticed, is a lot.]

In the space of a day, sai knight, I've lost my lover, my child, and my life. And on top of that, I find myself stuck in here with a man who'll mock me for laying money I don't have, but think nothing of offering me a horse rather than quit gracefully in a fight he started.

Don't talk to me of miseries.

[She stands, restless, uncomfortable with how much has just spilled out of her. He isn't going to be sympathetic, and he doesn't need to know all that she's been through today, and she shouldn't have said that - but it's been burning like smoke in her lungs, waiting to be coughed up, to momentarily dislodge the pain held breathless in her throat.]

[Folding her arms, she begins to pace. There's no goal to it, only a deep restlessness that grows by the minute. After that first harsh glare, she doesn't look at him.]

Better still, don't talk to me at all.