Open Post
Sandor isn't exactly better - but he is mobile, limping around, more or less, though he's sitting down now. Outside, for once, frowning and sharpening a sword slightly absently - he's glad of the weapons shed, that he could finally cast off the old, badly weighted, rusting one and get a proper blade. So he's going to take care of this one, dammit.
He's had a very strange past couple days, and would really rather not think too much about them. He's also progressively more concerned about the possibility of someone he knows being here, because he's all too aware of being unable to defend himself as competently as he should. However, that will have to wait.
In truth, his thoughts are in an extremely different place than weaponry and war, though he would never say anything about that. Perhaps it was the other little ninny who was talking to him that brought it up, but...
At any rate, while he may not be friendly, he's in a public place and there for talking to, face as bleak, expressionless, and burnt as ever.
He's had a very strange past couple days, and would really rather not think too much about them. He's also progressively more concerned about the possibility of someone he knows being here, because he's all too aware of being unable to defend himself as competently as he should. However, that will have to wait.
In truth, his thoughts are in an extremely different place than weaponry and war, though he would never say anything about that. Perhaps it was the other little ninny who was talking to him that brought it up, but...
At any rate, while he may not be friendly, he's in a public place and there for talking to, face as bleak, expressionless, and burnt as ever.