"Ow!" Elia yelped and batted belatedly at his arm, fixing him with a pouting scowl that faded a moment later, though her mouth kept a hint of sulky rebellion. "Brute."
"I'll behave myself. No need to go beating me into submission. I do believe that's the gold cloaks' job," she quipped. "I don't cause nearly the trouble you or Henry did. Well, you, at any rate."
She smirked then as she considered the idea of causing a bit of chaos. "Flea Bottom's near ready to boil anyway. This is... beautifully done, brother." Her smile warmed, "The Starks will hate you for this."