[Mat grins, his tone dripping with sarcasm, and he flings himself into the nearest available sitting surface. Poor Rhy. He knows how miserable it is to be bedbound, and it can only be even worse to be bedbound and clear headed and awake plenty of the time.]
Brought you something better than soup, though.
[He reaches into his open waistcoat and pulls out a cloth napkin that's been folded up around something. With a flourish of his hand he unveils a jam tart from the dining hall.]
Still warm. I assume an illicit pastry isn't going to kill you.
no subject
[Mat grins, his tone dripping with sarcasm, and he flings himself into the nearest available sitting surface. Poor Rhy. He knows how miserable it is to be bedbound, and it can only be even worse to be bedbound and clear headed and awake plenty of the time.]
Brought you something better than soup, though.
[He reaches into his open waistcoat and pulls out a cloth napkin that's been folded up around something. With a flourish of his hand he unveils a jam tart from the dining hall.]
Still warm. I assume an illicit pastry isn't going to kill you.