[When the afternoon descends, Robb has lost count of how many times he's broken out into song or blurted out some truth he'd been keeping back. Or done both at the same time. It's this city again, and he's seriously considering just heading straight home, locking the door, and not coming out until it wears off when he walks under a street marker (with a sprig of mistletoe dangling off it) and stops in his tracks.
Judging from the surprised expression on his face, he wasn't really planning on stopping. He looks around, wondering what could've somehow trapped him in one place, before scrubbing a hand over his face.]
Gods, what is it now? [There's a deeply exasperated note to his tone, and he leans against the post to wait for whatever's going on to just wear off, not paying attention to the sprig of mistletoe dangling above his head.
After a few seconds or so, his fingers start drumming out an audible beat against the post.]
Robb Stark | day 556
Judging from the surprised expression on his face, he wasn't really planning on stopping. He looks around, wondering what could've somehow trapped him in one place, before scrubbing a hand over his face.]
Gods, what is it now? [There's a deeply exasperated note to his tone, and he leans against the post to wait for whatever's going on to just wear off, not paying attention to the sprig of mistletoe dangling above his head.
After a few seconds or so, his fingers start drumming out an audible beat against the post.]