[Open] Mornings, man.

[tallasaking]

Who: Tyrion, the entire fleet
Broadcast: Open, accidental
Action: Tyrion is having a bad morning.
When: This Morning.

[The recording starts with Tyrion's small, stubby hand putting the device on the edge of the sink, tilting it upwards. All you can see is the top of his damp, curly blonde head, and the top of his scar. Then there's a sigh, before there is the sound of Tyrion's steps dragging across the bathroom floor.

After that, is the scrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeech of metal being pulled across metal, as the top of Tyrion's head comes into view again. Then the stomp stomp of Tyrion climbing what can only be the stepstool, and his tired face and slightly bloodshot eyes. He's not drunk, that much is clear, just ... tired.

He eyes the camera, and states flatly.]

There must be some universe ... where all things, can be available, according to height.

[And with that, he begins to clean his face, turning off the camera.]

Comments

Private Voice

[steeledskin]

[ there are things she thinks she will never tell him: of playing catspaw at his nephew's wedding, and of how she dared defend him against aunt lysa's disgust. there are questioned burning in her throat, but asking them betrays too much.

(and she believes he'll grow tired of her conversation. eventually. the imp does not want to discuss embroidery and the high harp.)

sansa begins her gracious exit: ] Good day, Lord Tyrion.

Re: Private Voice

[tallasaking]

[At least in that, they would both keep their silence. He will never tell her that he knew what his sister and brother did to Bran, or why, although he has a fairly good idea she already knows.

(Honestly he'd be fascinated to learn about the high harp.)

He dips his head, even though he knows she cannot see him.] Good day, Lady Sansa.