Is that what it's like for you? It must be lonely.

[ Shifting slightly in her seat, Navia looks up at Wriothesley' ice-blue eyes and wonders what his life has been like in the Fortress. Their paths have never really crossed before, whether by accident or intent, so she knows next to nothing about him beyond his title and his rank, and that he'd worked his way up from the bottom to earn them with blood and sweat.

Leaning in, she presses a chaste kiss to his cheek and sets her head on his shoulder. She doesn't want to make him more uncomfortable, however, or impose unduly on his time, so she slides out of his lap once the tears have dried from her cheeks. If Navia is anything, she is pragmatic. ]

We should probably get dressed. It's a shame, there don't seem to be any hats in this selection of garments.