"Fence needs fixin', Alicent," Alicent's hand dropped the piece of toast she'd been munching back on her plate and she looked up at Otto through her lashes; he'd been badgering her for weeks about that damned fence. "Aye," She replied through a mouthful of food.

A 'tch' sound left Otto's lips, his nails scratching at his beard idly as he looked at her like she was inept (a recent habit he picked up), "Right, well take the lass with you and fix it, earn your keep." He grumbled out, speaking came hard to him since his stroke last autumn.

Calloused fingertips rubbed against her lips as she pushed out of the chair in a huff; it was a never-ending battle with him these days. "Take the gloves with you." He huffed out, "Ah'm not gonna need 'em." She scoffed as she pushed out the front door, taking her work bag and a jacket with her.

The brisk autumn air hit her like a ton of bricks as she marched to the rickety motorhome you resided in; her fist pounding on the door until you exited to be met with the scowl that looked as if it had been permanently fixed on her face whenever she saw you.

Alicent was fuming, Otto hadn't trusted her to do her job tending the farm anymore— why else would he have hired a damned helper? "You ain't needed but he wants you to help me with fixin' the fences so get your stuff and the like." She didn't give you a chance to respond before she left you to prepare yourself.

She'd been perched on the quad-bike with her arms rested on the handles as you emerged, she watched as you threw your things in the rear rack and climbed on behind her; her eyes rolled as soon as you placed your hands around her waist but accelerated down the gravel road anyway.