Lagertha found it very hard to visualise the world as Grantaire was used to it. She had bypassed over a thousand years of human development and industry, coming straight into a city which, to her, was positively alien. It was hard to imagine what towns would have been like in the intermittent years, although, in her mind, she imagined something akin to Hedeby or Birka, busy and alive, full of smells and noise, yet more built up, with tall, stone buildings and the smoke from many fires. Grantaire was right, she was used to something very different. "I am used to more shit," Lagertha mused. "Cow shit, sheep shit, pig shit. I think the people here couldn't stomach it." Lagertha smirked and once again sipped her coffee.
"I can say it again if you like," Lagertha offered, turning her piercing blue gaze on Grantaire. She wasn't trying to offend or be horrible. It was a fact and Lagertha didn't believe in dancing around the truth. Of course, there were situations in which it was best to hold her tongue and she wasn't stupid, she could recognise those situations at a glance, but this wasn't one of them. It seemed to her that being too soft with someone in Grantaire's situation wasn't going to do him any favours.
Lagertha liked the sound of Grantaire's laugh. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard it before, except perhaps once or twice. It brought a smile to her own lips as she watched him. "I am sure he would appreciate that," Lagertha replied. "Although he would probably agree with me." Athelstan was a complicated man but Lagertha cared about him a great deal. She had been acutely aware of his absence when she had left Kattegat and she missed him greatly now.