Adelaide shrugs with the bottle in hand, and then takes one last gulp for herself before she puts it back in the box. "You picked a hell of a time for quitting," she comments. Then she turns so her legs run along the rail instead of over it, her back now to the rotunda's giant column, and pulls her knees in to her chest. She pats the open part of the rail across from her as an invitation. She can't get information from him if he goes away, and she probably needs to pull herself together now, anyway.
It isn't as if she is any more without her brother now than she has been for the past six years, no matter what her heart is insisting.
"No, don't go unless you want to," she says, with a little smile. "I could probably use some company, honestly. Especially one who picks his Game of Thrones characters so well. Davos and Arya and The Hound, absolutely, but I need some Jorah in there, too. And you may disagree, but I could always get behind those Tyrells." She gives a little pause, tilts her head appraisingly as she looks his expressive face over. "You and Archer could totally star in your own reality cop drama," she says, and then grins. "First reality show of the zombie age, you'll be rockstars. You can style the Dog King as your bad guy, and chronicle your chase." Gently, gently leading.