*flicks a glance at the people you're referring to, the tap of his index finger on the side of his glass the only outward sign of his distaste* I'm sorry about your uncle, Your Highness.
I'd've snuck out the back already
*curiously* Do you miss it? Nargothrond, I mean. *surprising even himself* Sometimes I still catch myself dreaming of Vinyamar, or the Haven. (One day they'll even be good dreams.)