Pyp hums to himself, mumble-singing a few words to the tune, his foot tapping against the floor as he stacks firewood into the hearth, one of his many jobs as a Steward. It was easy at least, if not a little boring and there was little to no chance of him ending up dead while doing it.

He’s still just singing and humming idly, working on autopilot until words he never thought he’d hear catch his focus. ‘A girl at The Wall’

A what?!

The little tune he was making stops quite suddenly, and his brows raise in disbelief. He wipes his hands on his pants as he rises from his spot by the hearth with haste, his work forgotten for more important matters. This ‘girl at The Wall’.