"The Great Sept?" Sandro echoed, his mind snapping to the rumored placement of his neice. "That's an interesting place for a suicice."
He followed Alethea without protest. Though she did have such a cursedly quick step some days. Most especially on days he felt like death. He watched her as she went about with the ingredients. On other days he would have asissted but... later. After he was finished dying properly.
He accepted the preparation with a smile, remembering her Symon swearing by it on occasion. "Ah, thank you, my lady." Sandro sipped at the mixture, welcoming the taste of ginger- it wasn't something often found in Westeros.
"You were saying- about the girl by the Sept? I have noticed that the city is not seeming the same. There is something being..." he searched for the appropriate word and even in his own language could not quite encompass it. "changed," he said at last. "And perhaps it is not for a better way."