[and this Queen, between courtiers and the school she run, had no interesting in waiting for Arya to plan her escape attempt. Her hand on her hips, looking at Arya with a so disapproving frown, she pursed her lips and barely even turned her head when the poor unfortunate soul she'd roped into service followed behind her, a basket in hand put it down in the corner and fled the room as quickly as she could.
But straight to business:] Is there a bath in your chambers? Or need I drag you back to my palace?